James Caruth
Freggio
The street-boys in Naples
call it a freggio; a scar
they carve on the faces of their women
to keep them from other men.
Tonight over dinner, I thought
how I might mark you;
draw a knife down your faultless cheek,
cut you to the bone.
But as I watched you across the table,
how the candlelight caught your face,
I saw the wound already opened.
How deep it runs. How I’ve touched bone.
call it a freggio; a scar
they carve on the faces of their women
to keep them from other men.
Tonight over dinner, I thought
how I might mark you;
draw a knife down your faultless cheek,
cut you to the bone.
But as I watched you across the table,
how the candlelight caught your face,
I saw the wound already opened.
How deep it runs. How I’ve touched bone.
Page(s) 94
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