Ode to Manna

You're probably thinking of the miraculous bread
that fell from the heavens—but I mean
the bitter lymph of Sicilian ash trees

from the Madonie Mountains. Called white gold,
it oozes after a small incision
is made in the bark, forms stalactites,

and sweetens as it dries in the hot sun.
How many sweet things come
from a wound: like songs written out of loss.

This sticky paste I spread on bread
tastes like honey and carob. Or like itself.
O manna, even at my age, you give me

something new to taste, even
as fresh wounds are beginning to write
themselves in my flesh.

---

Listen

---

Sharon Dolin is the author of seven poetry books, most recently Imperfect Present; a memoir entitled Hitchcock Blonde; and two books of translation, most recently Late to the House of Words: Selected Poems by Gemma Gorga. Her new book of translations of Gemma Gorga, Voyage to the Center, will be published in 2027. Dolin is Associate Editor of Barrow Street Press and teaches poetry workshops in New York City. See sharondolin.com.