Marc Alan Di Martino
by Best Poem
My grandfather was not a housepainter,
Nor was he poet, prophet or thief.
He was an ordinary man, a lawyer by profession
Who studied bible in his baldness,
The pink dome of his head
Exposed to the eye of God.
He never made a show of piousness
Much to my grandmother’s dismay.
Just a simple prayer here and there,
A blessing over the bread, for tradition’s sake.
My grandfather was no great intellect.
He did what he had to do, he cheated on his wife
And lived with her punishment until his death.
Perhaps in this he was noble:
He knew the meaning of suffering.
Marc Alan Di Martino, poet, translator and editor of American Poets Abroad, lives and works in Rome, Italy. His work has been published in BigCityLit, The American, Pivot, and Martha’s Version (under the pen name Marc Alan Coen).