Poem: The Anatomy of Daughters

The Anatomy of Daughters

Breath that is too human to the smell.
Complaints too momentary to consider.
Alternating cereal scoops: hand and spoon.
Inconsistent dress, ill-suited for weather
But bright, happy and free from concern.
Roundness in the face that brings pause,
Mystery and worthy of living.
Gold and starshine through a hundred thousand strands,
Grow longer from the source,
Prone to the tangle, the break, the fall.
Vulnerability in every strength.
Death in every new being.
Hope in all disaster.

10/26/2015

My name is Marcelo Asher Quarantotto.

I WRITE WITH WORDS, PHOTOS, VIDEOS, WEBSITES AND MUSIC.

I am a father of three beautiful daughters and husband to the most gracious, saintly creature I've ever met. (You'll find pictures of them here from time to time.) I am also a multidisciplinary storyteller.