Domenico Capilongo is a Toronto high-school creative writing teacher and Karate instructor. His books of poetry and short fiction were shortlisted for several awards. His work has appeared in several national and international literary journals. He has recently finished a manuscript about words that were born in the 1970s, is singlehandedly trying to revive the Sicilian Octave and during the pandemic has been posting weekly haiku for hope on all his social media. Find out more about him at: domcapilongo.wixsite.com/home
an·i·ma·tron·ic | \ ˌa-nə-mə-ˈträ-nik\
uncles dancing to disco at weddings, their movements a robotic staccato after 12 hours of digging city streets for sewage pipes. memories of the smells of sicily, left behind for a better life, still swirling in their heads. they moved like machines from construction sites to dinner tables to backyard gardens to bedrooms to dance floors, knees bending like broken, off-beat pistons.
ei·gen·mode | \ ˈī-gən-ˌmōd\
we moved between english and italian. between dying village dialects and attempted canadian english. made-up mixed-up words. between happy meals and pasta al forno. crocheted socks from sicily and knock-off converse. between beer in stubby bottles and homemade wine. the bee gees and toto cotugno. between the maple leafs and gli azzuri. donuts and cannoli.
christmas in sicily
we land here from rome with the boys on christmas
winter sun hugs our faces fresh off the flight
a synesthesia of memories pass
your smile, perfect, fits these new moments right
we learn so much about natale, christmas
the power of panettone late at night
after-dinner amaro makes the time pass
sunset in noto, your face sweet in the light
Poetry in this post: © Domenico Capilongo
Published with the permission of Domenico Capilongo