"The road curves ahead."

His warning came but by then the dust was in my eyes

and sleeping like sunsets on the pale of my skin

ruddy and given to blowing towards the grass at any minute

it seemed odd to me then that the road was so bright

even though it guided us to places we probably should have

passed on, unknown stations in foreign lands

but we couldn’t with the color of it on our feet

he told me my hair was the belly of an eel on dry land

and that the sticks in the ground marked the places

where he fished for me with kisses on those cloudy days

but there were so few in the sun of my dear home Puglia

I wanted you in that white house with me

my tongue a tattoo on your bare back traveling blind

we still dance there on the cold tiled floors, singing

but the shape of you cradles the shadows of dreams

home there, it’s true

the treetops believe in the weight of our secrets

never too heavy for their sturdy faith, this you and me

for we are as rooted as they in this place we’ve defined