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Spring 2015


The Harbor of the World
- O. Arieti
Those Italian Boys
- I. Backalenick
Friendless Featherheads
- G. Beck
- K. Cain
- J. Campbell
King Street Comanche
- B. Foster
- L. Giulianetti
Poets Out of Service
- M. Johnson
Irish Farmer
- L. Kumar
Communion Portrait
- J. Lagier
- M. Lisella
Connemara 2004
- C. Lloyd
Carrying Grandpa
- M. Lyon
The Saying of Mass
- C. Moore
Taking You home
- J. Mulligan
- P. Murray
- P. Nicholas
Resurrecting Easter Sunday
- L. Pierro
Dublin Spirts
- F. Polizzi
Nun Ponnu/They Cannot
- N. Provenzano
- K. Retzlaff
- C. Steinhoff
Strawberry Pickers, Cyprus
- J. Tarwood
Melina's Tarverna
- B. Thomas
No News
- R. Tremmel
- R. Volz
Broadway Bagel
- C. Wald
Taking My 8-Year-Old Daughter to Hear Seamus Heaney
- L. Wiley
My Mother Had a Relationship with Good Bread
- C. Young
Sicilian Traces
- A. Znaidi

Spring 2015


- J. Amato
Moving Day, 1897
- D. Corrigan
My Madeleine
- F. Dunne
A Review Of Italoamericana: The Literature Of The Great Migration, 1880–1943
- G. Fagiani
The Immigrant's Grandson
- J. Giordano
Review of The Glass Ships
- R. Crupi Holz
A Sunday Afternoon
- R. Iulo
Dark Idyll
- T. Sanfilip
The Choir Book
- G. Sullivan
Review of My Two Italies
- T. Zeppetella

Featured Artist
Richard Holz



Luisa M. Giulianetti

(Messina, 1941)

Li morti aprinu l’occhi dei vivi.*

Papá paid il maestro. At seven, I traded pen for hoe,
took to Iacobi’s fields. Iacobi commanded us like dogs:
Porta nu panaru di Malvasia. Lascialla da,”* pointing
to the bottom stair. Quickly, I learned to ground my gaze.
Everyone knew he killed both sons. Eldest felled by a shot
to the skull, an afternoon in montagnia. Iacobi couldn’t abide
a son in step with i fasciste. Tre giorni di lutto,* a phalanx,
bowed and black, filed to the estate. Iacobi’s face a stone well.
Il Guidice appeared, and I waited for the ground swell,
the toppled glass. Nothing. Respects paid, rhythm restored.
Dark to dark taming vines, snapping bud and cane –
anything above the stake. My hands and faith calloused.

“Virgine Maria Santa,” the veiled women incant
over Iacobi’s youngest. I necrologi* belie the truth:
la scarpona di* Iacobi cracked bone,
the boy’s pleas scattered into shivering quiet.

Open doors and windows shepherd souls’ departure.
The living remain; our eyes peeled by the dead.

*Li morti aprinu l’occhi dei vivi. (Sicilian proverb): The dead open the eyes of the living. *“Porta nu panaru di Malvasia. Lascialla da,” (Sicilian): “Bring a basket of Malvasia.
Leave it there.”
*Tre giorni di lutto, (Italian): three days of mourning
*I necrologi (Italian): obituary
*la scarpona (Sicilian): boot