a single cricket
playing a lonely solo
curses from the bocce park
jet fighters above
Salento
Castro Marina 200901
I blinked and the firework was a flower on the back of my eye, evening star soaring as the moon sank beyond the town wall. Where the sea had been this morning was deep nothingness, holding glassy afloat the lights of the outgoing boats. A moment, and the moon.
What did you do this morning?
Run. Coffee. Shower.
Coffee. Sea. Coffee. Shower.
Breakfast. Coffee. Sleep.
Every morning of every summer they meet
Every morning of every summer they meet. Same beach, same time. “So, we’re all here, are we? Nobody’s died in the night?” And with that Luigi and the others smile and stand thigh-deep in the water and frown at clumsy splashing swimmers. Sometimes the women begin to sing.
Boys diving at Acquaviva
Sharp silhouette diving
Split second swift wing curving
Needle straight into the deep
The sea was a soft mirror
The sea was a soft mirror to dive into and be swallowed up by, a sweet velvet surrounding; the sea was a mirror.
The sea-king’s daughter gave me a sea-flower as I sank, arched and rose again; the sea-king’s daughter gave me a flower.
My heart swelled as I took the flower and the happiest tears mixed silent with the sea water; my heart swelled and I awoke still swimming. Dreams do not end just because we awake.
