One afternoon at Mezzegra, he lifted a serpent

with the eyes of an old woman. The serpent

lisped, A fruta proibida é a mais apetecida.

Amethyst fell from the serpent’s eyes.

In a windowless room, a woman holds

One Afternoon at Mezzegra by Peter Whittle.

She describes the book by prescribed rules.

She determines its subject headings. She types

a 3 x 5 card. What happened to the card?

What happens to any woman’s work?

One afternoon at Mezzegra, soldiers searched

the cobbled streets. A child pressed his face

against the pane. He watched. He did not turn away.

She would tell them nothing else.

One afternoon at Mezzegra, as he stood beside his father’s grave,

a wasp settled on his eyelid. He took it as a sign and wept. Grief

stung. Wasp, why do you believe an open eye?