September 12-18, 2022: Poetry from LindaAnn LoSchiavo and Abdulrosheed Oladipupo Fasasi

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LindaAnn LoSchiavo

Native New Yorker LindaAnn LoSchiavo, a Pushcart Prize and Rhysling Award nominee, is a member of SFPA and The Dramatists Guild.  Elgin Award winner “A Route Obscure and Lonely” and “Concupiscent Consumption” are her latest poetry titles. Forthcoming title: “Women Who Were Warned” (Beacon Books). She has been leading a poetry critique group for two years. Video-Poetry set to music is on her YouTube channel: “LindaAnn Literary.”

The following work is Copyright © 2022, and owned by LindaAnn LoSchiavo and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

Grandpa Umberto’s Fig Trees

Italians love their fruited trees — those figs.
Umberto, nonno mio, introduced
A gathering young family of this stock
To Brooklyn, pruned, clipped, prayed, devoted days,
Still pinned to memories of older ways,
Refusing to let inconsistency
Impose its stay. Allegiance to black fruit
I learned while earning a privilege to pick
Those soft and sticky fichi, synonym
For much not said in front of children then.

Still green, this fig, my oval office when
One’s cultivation mattered — so we’d stretch chance,
Obsessed with spreading coffee grounds around,
Massaging the parameters. But still
Bold leaves perpetuated out of spite
Perhaps because life’s spelled all wrong, New York
Much harder than in Naples (winter-poor) —
Though rich potentially for those who add
Refuse from kitchens, thick rinds, sour grinds
To foreign roots. It seems some trees are big
Misunderstandings in America,
Its cool completeness not in need of things
Italian. Nonno mio struggles, pits
His fading strength against Gravesend’s deep weeds,
All dirt familiar. His pipe’s a spoon to stir
Blue air, attached to him, one pleasure’s home.

This Neapolitan tic: nature holds,
Poured into quarrels too small to contain it.

He prunes. He tries encouraging ripe figs
To form as if he knows, when he’s detached
From this, freed trees will do just what they want.

Abdulrosheed Oladipupo Fasasi

Fasasi Abdulrosheed Oladipupo is a Nigerian poet and the author of a micro-chapbook; “Sidiratul Muntaha” (Ghost City Press, 2022). His work has been published or forthcoming at; Ambit Magazine, Southern Humanities Review, Obsidian; Literature and Art in the African Diaspora, Oxford Review of Books, Stand Magazine, Roanoke Review, Louisiana Literature, Olongo Africa, The Citron Review, South Florida Poetry Journal, Scrawl Place, Short Vine Literary Journal, Oakland Arts Review, Welter Journal, Watershed Review, Santa Ana River Review, and elsewhere. His work has been nominated for Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net and Best New Poet anthology. Fasasi explores Trans-Mediterranean migration, loss, sex trafficking and recently transatlantic slave trade.

The following work is Copyright © 2022, and owned by Abdulrosheed Oladipupo Fasasi and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

We Lived Happily During the War

(After Ilya Kaminsky)

At night before the bed overtakes us, we turn off the notifications,
We punch the YouTube; my daughter says everything looks

Like a firework, someone said the country should be renamed;
A-fire-place, a boy on Twitter turns anguish into savage

He said everything is cruise and in the mid of chaos we deserve
A tinge of joy. In my dreams I saw a thousand maiden of Al Firdaous

With blood piping their glassy bodies, in the nights of chaos
I can’t believe I still dream of milk-carrying maidens, not monsters with the heads of

Dictators chasing me, not to receding echoes of bomb waking me.
At the dawn the cock crows, the alarm beeps but

We turn our backs, waiting for the sun, waiting for another news
About burning girls and children, we care in our comments not in our hearts,

We pray with our mouths but they never reach our throats,
We say we hate the dictators but we seem to love their havocs.

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