The Law of Falling Bodies: Poems

Not There

Not There Six years ago this month, this May Where I stall every morning, Basil still not planted, frail roses Drying out in pots, Six years ago I last stepped Into the crowd on a vaporetto and rode Down the green waters Away from that ruined lotus of a city Whose age and injury I feel within myself. Now William’s in Rome with Betty, Where Michelle and her lover Stroll their shadows through the ancient streets. And today, Lynn and Anna-Claire Will board a plane For the unspent spring of Paris and Provence. Oh, Ohio Has its own art and artichokes, Its book bins and fountains and chestnut trees With pale blossoms like pillbox hats. But I love those lands that touch The Middle Sea, the south of my longing, And Spain among them— Churros dipped in chocolate, blue tiles • • • 44 Mooring a doorway, the olive groves That silver in the wind. Friends, forgive me For hitching a ride on your lives Like a flea that fills itself With any blood traveling past its leap. My own weak legs Won’t get me far, and my damaged back Would buckle from the pull of luggage. When you come home, tell me, Beyond the cameras and the guidebooks, How the wine tasted in Cortona And the moon melted on the waves at Nice. Toss me a few foreign coins, As to a crippled beggar Waiting on the mercy of your return. 45 • • • ...