Rita Cerniglia Biography

Your truth burns my lips, so I take little sips,
gradually, by degrees, coming to grips.
Holy Water from your faucet drips.
Like lies from lips,
...

Though lust
like lava
runs through my veins
...

You have not learned to peel the fruit,
Smells of a life lived good.
Exciting excess makes your mind pollute
Each tangible of food.
...

That makes me more colorful to others than I am.
You coat the empty hours, the failing tongue,
The fear of mediocrity and slipping youth.
You make me glamorous in the eyes of some.
...

'Do you have a special tea in mind? '
She asks me every morning.
I never have tea on the mind,
much less in the morning,
...