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Volume 2 | Issue 3 | March 2008 | 

Rosemary Starace

The girl caught the dusky eye.
She caught the truth of gold
from the ear and the tooth.
And from under bright skirts,
the toe-bell music.

And the wandering? While the
wagons beat a drum song with their
arms of hanging pots, she saw
it was the world which ambled by,
frivolous and tinny. The gypsies' slow procession:
a ribbon, fastened at both ends
to the necessary life.


Rosemary Starace.
Pittsfield, MA

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