March 2022
Bio Note: Growing up Italian-American means food is a sacred bond of family love. Almost everyone I knew grew their own tomatoes. If they didn;t have a yard, they grew the tomatoes in pots. My father worked late every other night and in summer, I indeed watched stars with my mother while waiting for him to come home--and I still love ice cream with cantaloupe. Each sweet bite takes me back to the comforting love of my parents.
Strawberry Solution
Cherokee love fruit tossed in the path of an angry woman fleeing home. Entranced by their beauty, she tasted one. Sweetness charmed away her anger. I think on this as I slice these heart shaped treats for my dearest and myself. We argued this morning. I lean over as I place our berry bowls on the table, ending the rancor with a double touch of love a berry between his lips, mine on his.
Originally published in Ruby for Women in 2018
©2022 Joan Leotta
Editor's Note: If this poem(s) moves you please consider writing to the author (email address above) to say what it is about the poem you like. Writing to the author is what builds the community at Verse Virtual. It is very important. -JL