← v7n1, Spring 2008
Poetry · Volume 7, Number 1

Messina

Take Messina: you’d be impressed and even sad

that I remember. The crag of mottled faces

In Messina you’re alone‚ available‚ the youth

in your face still rising. As if there’ll be no end

to youth and solitude‚ the sea below Messina

answers: solitude is beauty‚ even after you

Messina? I have never been. You told the story

quickly when I loved you; now here it is

exactly as you left it‚ its old stone faces

alternately old and then like children‚ elated by a fallen tooth.