Sanico by Antonia Kearton
- Dust
- Jun 7
- 1 min read
Sanico
Visiting my father, I bring peaches
from his local supermarket.
They’re reduced in price, spotted with bruises,
but rich and sweet as those we ate
in the steep meadow of an Italian summer
almost forty years ago. We walked
down from the village – he went first,
wary of snakes curled in the long grass,
clapping his hands to scare them off.
He says, time and again, that I disappeared,
found at last with the neighbour’s children,
at their table, eating pasta,
bright trails of spaghetti al pomodoro
smeared across our faces.
I see it still, that kitchen
with its feral cats and cool terracotta tiles,
while the mountain opposite darkens,
gathering the storm.
Antonia Kearton is a counsellor & psychotherapist, who lives in Strathspey in the Highlands of Scotland. She has been published in various journals including Acumen, Atrium, Black Nore Review and Northwords Now.
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