Daniela Gioseffi

Wearing Breasts I sit back in the city and admire the octopus, wise old mollusk. I myself am an ancient fish wearing new plastic shoes. My lungs have been through many changes breathing water, then ooze' then air. A tree-climbing fish evolved me, giving me delicate names: Ivy, Heather, Rose, Lily, and a cave of sleep within my body, a child's room with a closed flower to guard the entrance. Out of the estuaries where rivers come to the sea, I am born of my mother's waters and can't find my paternal parent or give wifely comfort among creatures that stare from green mud.

Reprinted by permission of the author, Daniela Gioseffi from her book of poetry: Eggs In The Lake, (Boa Editions, Ltd. Brockport; NY, Copyright © 1979 and 1999 by Daniela Gioseffi.) All rights reserved