My Villa Bride

—Tuscany, 2004

Solid and cold, exterior stone

Inside a crackling fire burns, smoke

Scented sweet—juniper, pine

On white-washed walls

To forestall fear, images of Sufis

Spinning in their long white robes

Peaceful, sincere

Not a hammock strung between two trees

But a rabbit running breathlessly

Its tiny feet on olive leaves

Later, stripped naked, pillows on the floor

Ripples cross the swimming pool

Someone’s knocking at the door

Lumberyard, 2009