Strega Nona

Strega Nona

Over the dark side of the kettle

Anguished and extinguished from the flame

the light reflected

a rested spoon

and dearest Strega Nona

Had she not known

of Grim Salvador

She would’ve still been stirring

And stoking

A flame for her food

and her happy-go-heart

Broken, beaten

was the town and her

Bellies quake

from the carbload

Strega Nona aches

from heartbreak

Now Grim Salvador

then Fine Matador

His fame from Spain to Italy

spread quickly when she was a Little Ragazza

But the distance from Spain to Italy was too far

for any noodle to stretch

A fine chica, who salsas and sways

decadently

Those burnt rose dresses

only nearest to the Fine Matador

would be formidable

Fine Matador had a thing for the bulls

and women who so competently challenged him

So why would he soak with Ragazzas

the little noodles of northeastern waters

But Strega Nona as a Ragazza

was witchy

and itched

to test out her spells

Though Fine Matador couldn’t know of her talent

Pigeon Pen Carrier Paper

A Single Recipe Chicken Scratched

Stretched across an envelope,

“To The Fine Matador

From Little Ragazza”

Sent off

Lentils

Chickpeas

Split Peas

Split peace

many nights after impatience soaked

Little Ragazza received her response

A piece of bread in her other hand,

nibbling as she read

“Dearest Ragazza

my love for pasta

almost exceeds the distance

between us

as if each noodle made

compensated the stretch

between us

Things could be different!”

Grim Salvador

now, Fine Matador

then,

either way,

his sarcasm ripped flesh

not so clearly on paper

So hopeful

Too hopeful

Little Ragazza grew into Strega Nona

Many moons, many more noodles eaten

when finally she could no longer take it

and figured to stir her spoon and whip up the biggest delicious spell imaginable

many enough noodles to stretch to Grim Salvador,

and then he’ll taste how

lovable

affable

the Little Ragazza stayed…