Cecil Court, 1997

by Amy Soricelli


My mother's trip to London was a suitcase filled with books.
First, there was wine and small squares of cheese; 
she wrote on art postcards in her loopy language.
No one looks familiar here, she wrote across the top,
everyone looks so English.

In her rented room she would pull the curtains 
and count the people walking in pairs.
She didn't need friends for her short stay, only a table 
filled with fresh fruit or earrings that caught the light when she laughed. 
She never counted the children.

My mother's trip to London was the "Sunshine Annual of 1892"
with ads for polishing paste and Bird's Custard Powder. 
Here, she offered, this is where I was.
The book smelled of rain, footprints, and a skinny man with a stained tie,
asking her what the Bronx looks like.

* * * * *

Amy Soricelli has been published in numerous publications and anthologies including Remington Review, The Westchester Review, Deadbeats, Long Island Quarterly, Literati Magazine, The Muddy River Poetry Review, Pure Slush, Cider Press Review, Glimpse Poetry Magazine, and many others. That Plane is not a Star, 4/2024, Dancing Girl Press; Carmen has No Umbrella but Went for Cigarettes Anyway, Dancing Girl Press 9/2021; Sail Me Away, Dancing Girl Press, 10/2019. Nominations: Pushcart Prize, 2021, Best of the Net 2020, 2013. Nominated by Billy Collins for Aspen Words Emerging Writer's Fellowship/2019, Grace C. Croff Poetry Award, Herbert H Lehman College, 1975.