An Italian concerto
playing at the edge of Mediterranean Sea
as if unscented flame
flooded the pebble stone courtyard.
You appeared from a secretive back door,
terrified, knocking down the veil
of my wide-brimmed summer hat.
In the kitchen of pitted green olives,
you boiled an unusual pot of confession.
The jag of your throaty laugh trailed off
in the blur of my tea-colored glasses.
“It was the biggest mistake in my life.”
Years ago, the feathers of forgiveness ruffled,
unable to nest a shelter in your heart.
But why did it fill my heart with glimmering wind?
You had no idea where I was from.

Riding on a motorcycle,
we zoomed around in the dry heat.
In the whirlwind of my tangling hair, I
shrieked with arms spread at the downhill.
The sun was burning my leg.
I let it be —
as your hand, at every turn of the road,
covered my bare thigh.
Holding up the rear of a motorcycle parade,
our mind braided its wheels’ impervious past
through split present.
“With a little love, I can do anything.”
You blow-dried my hair as if
lifting a net to the weaving light.
I drifted back to the dream
of kissing your eyes to wake me,
of the desire to show you to everyone I love.
We had no idea where this was going.

You listened to other people’s stories, and
only let me touch your hidden hue.
The unfolded layer of your raw canvas
brought out a warm orange tone of my utterance–
no one has ever tasted a deer’s tears.
You said there is a bird
in every theme of my poems,
shuffling through shadows of its wings,
fly toward a midnight sun.
“I want to curve this moment in my mind.”

Reborn in shipwrecks, we were
capable of a dance without flicking the night.
But you didn’t believe magical lanterns,
carrying fear a long way like grasshoppers
pressing leaves down
to the unbreathable dust.
I had no idea where you would disappear.