I thought Stromboli was done exploding,
like hidden jars over the Pelice
but there were a few lights left…
Oh! They were stars looking like
pinpricks in a filthy sheet!
How lewd and lovely.
I couldn’t quite see the man
strumming the sawtooth-hammerhead
shark, but I would know the sound
of drowning on land anywhere.
It goes well with butter.
His face only bends a little each way
but it’s like the universe was born
in one of his happy crinkles.
My gold has turned silver
though there are times I wish it hadn’t.
We believe in a vague destiny-
part petals, potatoes, and prayer –
with heavy hearts and light promises
and though we try to turn fractals
into something complicated, a fern
will speak up and remind us to shut up.