Delia DeSantis

Crutches  When people around him get sick, my husband gets paranoid. We have been married for nineteen years and I know what I am talking about. He has come to rely on his own peculiarities for escape. Coming out of the hospital after having had to drag him there to visit mutual friends or relatives, […]

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A Vignette

Lamb Chops He’s sitting in the family room on the chair which has become his, through respect. His solid shoulders are a definition of his character. He doesn’t know I am watching. Does he wait for my gentle reach? Standing beside him, I lay my hand on his head, fingers drawing lines through his white

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A Poem I Wrote For My Son –bringing him home as a new baby

( For Aldo) In long car rideyour eyelids flutterinterrupting angel dreamsBeneath your warm, tiny bodya mother’s heart beatsat your newnessHome, to a one storey housesmall acreage by the highwaywhere at a tender ageyou learnedthe carefulness of crossingsas your companion dogfound tragedyin human speedThe backyardwhere you chased duckssurprising yourselfwith your own squeals of laughterand your fascination

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Delia De Santis Journey (for my father) Walk with usIn the warm hills of summerCool your strong armsAt the river of spring waterWalk the lonely pathsOf foreign landsA soldier, husband, and fatherRest in the afternoonUnder the pomegranateThe olive and the pearThe wheat fields waitingWork to be doneWalk with us in your strong silence Of love

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