somewhere in the italian countryside 

near the alpine mountains

that share wind,


and sigh inducing 

bottled fjord water 

with switzerland 

I am sitting awake 

hounded by the convertor 

and conversion rate 

and inevitable return 

I am trying to erase you 

but I see you in the 

Italian jawline 

I am trying to forget you 

but I am sleepless 

writing letters and poems 

I will never send 

all this beauty in the foothills

and my gestures call your shoulder 

the small place in your neck

– sheila c


3 thoughts on “

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s