Eight poems from Franca Mancinelli’s collection Pasta Madre (Mother Dough) have appeared in the Tupelo Quarterly. Here is one of the poems, in an English translation by John Taylor:
“I worked with death
in my heart for a month.”
And her eyes brim over with the thought
of nights when on the other side
of the bed a river was slowly
clogging with garbage. Then in the depths
of sleep a big boatyard
linked life back up to four bridges.
For twenty years we’ve been sleeping
together and only now
do I know that blood flows
from my atrium to his.
—translated by John Taylor
© John Taylor