CARNE by Salvatore Difalco

This is part of a series of mythically-oriented poems, full of classic and modern imagery and emotional sensitivity by Salvatore DIfalco. Hook will publish a selection in the upcoming summer months.

CARNE

The admission swooped down

like an eagle, talons first,

driving me to gnash my teeth,

head back, much aggrieved.

Slow down and ask for the check

at least inquire with charm.

The violin strings sound

harmonious as flying arrows.

Nothing truer ever wounded

a free heart—bring medicine.

Herb alone cannot heal it,

nor can music soothe the ache.

Love leaving love unfinished—

that flaying wind, your fading face.

Salvatore Difalco is a Sicilian Canadian poet and author currently residing in Toronto, Canada.