there’s a baby vulture sitting on the ground
but we’re the ones hanging from tree limbs
he’s watching us with red-rimmed eyes
through our olive branches and ivy, waiting


Komodo dragon in my dream
curls up beside me like a dog
under the lake surface
a sea turtle wrestles with a snake


her hands smell of eucalyptus
hiding in a dark bathroom
after too much gin
but it’s a night of merry
and white
a crisp of november air


I pass by a glowing window
a woman in red at her desk
monitors flickering
a single square of light
what is waiting for her at home?


a squirrel in the hallway
the single pink rose blossom in a freeze
a man on horseback in traffic
things that don’t belong
but do anyway


the shores of Ischia are calling
that city of flour and salt
out beyond the waterfront
the waves breaking
over a song