for Maddalena


your eyes are wells

 

your eyes are wells
where you've hidden
the changing pattern 
of the skies

your curls are waves
laying siege to this island
brushing smooth your complexion
the beaches

your teeth new born lambs
through the valley of your mouth
shades of green in your voice
words are leaves

sighs are clouds
grass is whispering around stones
that are broken bones
of ancestors

your heart is in tatters
though a gipsy from Spain
to this country you were married
again and again

27th Febb/6th March

girasole