The Etruscans were the first on the Italic peninsula to use a written language. It was once thought to be boustrophedon—alternating line by line, right to left, left to right. While both K and C passed into Latin from Etruscan, K took a backseat, C being less complicated, with K used primarily for foreign words.
I wrote earlier than your other children,
storing ideas in yellow notebooks, covers
stamped with pictures of birds, tails bright
as ribbons. Golden-haired
where my siblings were dark, thoughts winging
in one direction, then the other.
As a baby, you called me Kay-Kay, doubling
the power of the uncommon, foreign.
When classmates scattered scorn like feed at my feet,
taunted me into hiding on oak limb,
hurled names in high arcs, you came to my rescue;
Life is a kaleidoscope, use your wings, Fledgling.
In my K, you’re pillar, I’m bird’s beak, nipping,
leaning in. In the garden where we left your ashes, a hummingbird
hung above the patch of red-tongued salvia, frozen
in air. What’s left of the Etruscans’ words
comes from tombs, but you have none. Where, then,
do I read you? They sought out augury of eagles, vultures,
to tell them what to do. Even crows—noisy, tarnished things
too smart for their own good. And what of these tiny birds,
their pearly throats flying so close to earth?
Do they also bring news of other realms? Ferocity
must count for something—the way they stand you down,
their murderous purr, a sound like a portal opening.
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Kathryn Petruccelli holds an M.A. in teaching English language learners. Some places poems have recently appeared include The Southern Review, Poet Lore, Ruminate, SWIMM, and Tinderbox. A Best of the Net nominee, Kathryn was a finalist for the 2019 Omnidawn Broadside Poetry Prize. She is passionate about getting contemporary poetry in the hands of young people and teaches online writing workshops from western Massachusetts.