Mending World by Luisa Giulianetti

“Take it from me, someday we’ll all be free.”
—Donny Hathaway

His words coil,
rise, strike.
Centuries-old demon
bread at my table.

I want to split maple,
create a cavern, shutter
our fragile, mending world
from his.
Instead, I walk away.

You remain,
in a place well past familiar.
Steadying your swelling throat,
you light a verbal footpath
down his crooked alley.

Perhaps all we have
is a corner of this world,
a place to pause, share
a meal, breathe Coltrane,
re-member a story.

A jagged corner
our mothers raised
from a golden myth,
worked until it bore
almonds, figs, and children’s

songs, Sunday lessons
and freedom marches,
before dinner, prayers
for the dying.

And iris:
amethyst hands reaching
balancing on fragile reeds,
throbbing the blues.


Cover photo Me
Luisa Giulianetti, a California Bay Area native, works at UC Berkeley as an administrator and writing instructor. Her graduate work was in 20th Century African American literature. She enjoys teaching and helping students develop their writerly voices. She is published in The Sun, The Tule Review, The Owl (currently the Santa Clara Review), and the Lily Literary Review.