The nest that beats amid the ribs
holds a blue egg about to crack;
when poetry will be born out of it,
I’ll put a leash around its polished
beak and let its claws inscribe my heart.
– Alessandra Bava, from Issue 3
The nest that beats amid the ribs
holds a blue egg about to crack;
when poetry will be born out of it,
I’ll put a leash around its polished
beak and let its claws inscribe my heart.
– Alessandra Bava, from Issue 3