V. Penelope Pelizzon Poems

Best Poem of V. Penelope Pelizzon

Clever And Poor
She has always been clever and poor,
especially here off the Yugoslav train

on a crowded platform of dust. Clever was
her breakfast of nutmeg ground in water

in place of rationed tea. Poor was the cracked
cup, the missing bread. Clever are the six

handkerchiefs stitched to the size of a . . .
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To Vertumnus
He's no world traveler, roaming here or there,
But knows the neighboring hills like his right hand.

--Ovid, Metamorphoses


October sun answers the visitor's query,
lightly resolving why all the city's walls
are painted shades of yellow: by contrast
they heighten heaven, as gold . . .
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