Your head is a hive
you are not sure you will survive.
Women form a circle around you
In their eyes, your stories flow like The Nile.
They collect them
and hand you the cup.
but you hesitate.
and you receive.
You raise the cup to your lips
and pass the cup to the next woman
you all sip in turns.
It’s an oath not to upset social strings in veneration.
You pass the string tighter to next generation
of women you know
of women you do not know
until you realise it’s a scheme
and the string
eats deep into skin.
You drop it
And break the circle.
Link to the Italian translation