Vernazza

“Vernazza” was published in the California Quarterly.

You write the same scene
over and over again
but cannot get it right
memory demurs as you examine it

The tart burst of apricots
as you eat them one after one
from a blue enamel bowl
figs too, their tiny seeds
popping between teeth

Three round tolls of a distant church bell
all of this under a lemon tree
hung with fruit so heavy and bright
they remind you of lanterns

And the placid sea yawning toward the horizon
beyond the terracotta rooftops of the village
water so blue that the thought of it
still makes you soft with longing

All the skiffs are in, the fishermen
ensconced in cool rooms dreaming
the afternoon air so warm and thick
even the bees have quit the lavender

She is dreaming too
her Italian Vogue folded on her chest
her shoulder tan and sculpted
you kiss it and then her neck

The taste of salt and
the faint smell of sun cream
overwhelm you
overwhelm you still

You retrace these images again and again
but cannot be certain it was Vernazza at all
the sea or a mountain lake?
A blue bowl or green?

You will never get it right
you cannot raise that ephemeral bloom
only the pining, the grasping remains
you hope someday to forget all of this