Amulet
By Julia Lisella
Italian believers of mal’occhio know not to speak to their Roman Catholic priest
about the superstition. They don’t even display their corno in church. For their
Greek counterparts, it’s the complete opposite.
— Agata DeSantis, Mal’Occhio, Everything You Ever Wanted to Know about the Evil Eye
Ptou ptou
my friend says when I appear in her kitchen
in a dress and stockings and high heels, my hair cut and blown
mascara and eye shadow and lipstick applied
pretty earrings dangling
Her arms form a halo around me
as we reach in for our ritual
hug, spit, hug
Last Christmas I bought my daughter
a gold corno she wears daily
warm luster just below her clavicle
she sweeps it side to side across the chain
My mother was very modern, did not believe
the small horn could save anyone from evil—
sign of the cross, the path of her finger
across a small wooden bead,
medals of gold and some of felt
rested beneath her shirt, the faces of saints whose
uses and jobs she knew
In his late 50s, my father bought a corno—men
were wearing necklaces then—the trend for him
short lived; I did not find it among his things
I carry mine, bright red, deep in my pocket,
feel for its sharp point,
to puncture, to disturb
envy, ill will, or to attract its opposite
Julia Lisella’s latest collection of poems, Our Lively Kingdom (Bordighera Press), was named a finalist in the 2023 Paterson Book Prize and Grand Prize Finalist and Poetry Honorable Mention for the Eric Hoffer Book Award. Her other collections include Always, Terrain, and the chapbook, Love Song Hiroshima. Her poems have appeared in Ploughshares, Alaska Quarterly, The Common, Nimrod, Pangyrus and many others. She has received writing residencies at MacDowell, Millay and the Vermont Center for the Arts. She teaches at Regis College and co-curates the Italian-American Writers Association Literary Reading Series in Boston. For more, see www.julialisellapoetry.com.
