It is a rugged island of much beauty.
I've just arrived,
rumpled in the harbor bar.
Passing trucks, petrochemicals & other
convenient absurdities
lull the wretched mind to rest.
Midway through the fourth caffé
Caterina Zaccaroni
in a red dress
enters grandly.
•
Look! is always the first foreign word
I learn, listening to children
point their wonder.
Guarda!
Caterina's younger son has caught
a tiny crab he keeps
cupped & suffocating
until his father returns it
to the water. At lunch
the boy chokes on his tears.
•
I find fear easy
when it has a simple object, like the shark,
or the more relevant
sea urchin, which lodges
where rocks verge.
I don't mean to disturb you
with my hover of fear
& my sand-strewn belongings.
You too have traveled.
But you haven't met Caterina.