Ti amo

May 21, 2013 at 12:15 am (literature, Poems, poetry, Stories) (, , , , , , )

I’m so sorry I can’t be with you tonight
high in an Italian mountain wilderness
sipping red wine from glasses we found
in the dimly lit kitchen where we simmered
al dente spaghetti on a single electric ring
and licked the salt of olives from our hands.

Remember the first time? Holding hands
in the room where you are alone tonight;
warming our hands on the same electric ring
and listening to the sounds of the wilderness
as we enjoyed simple dishes, simmering
spaghetti, impatient and hungry for all we found?

I wonder, when you arrived, whether you found
the bed linen I washed with my hands
in the room next to the spaghetti simmering,
and made up the bed, comfortable for tonight,
safe from the strange mountain wilderness,
comforted by bolognese cooked on that single ring.

It might be some little while before you ring,
an hour’s difference disrupting rhythms, we found,
leaving us each dancing in our own wilderness,
unused to having so much space and time on our hands.
I wonder if you will want to talk much tonight?
after a day in the sun, bed made, spaghetti simmering.

Tomorrow, when you are properly settled, simmering
gently in the warmth of the medieval stones, ring
and we’ll swap stories; perhaps leave it tonight,
giving you time to reflect on whatever you have found,
gemstones and kernels to share, held in your hands
like a prayer in the Italian mountain wilderness.

By now you will be sleeping, unfamiliar wilderness
of Italian dream-scapes shifting and simmering,
heat taking leave of mountain stones, dear hands
perhaps reaching for mine, wanting to be held, ring
me in the morning, and tell me what you found,
but know in your heart, I am with you tonight.

Two dear hands in the wilderness
where tonight dreams are simmering,
ring in the morning, to tell me what you found.

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14 Comments

  1. unfetteredbs said,

    Simmering…. Carried me right along, immersed completely wondering what will be

    • Julia Dean-Richards said,

      I stayed up way too late writing this one – but got totally immersed in doing it.

      Blessings to the people of Oklahoma this morning x

      • unfetteredbs said,

        Devastating.

        Have a good day J

  2. nobodysreadingme said,

    I never realised that simmered is an anagram of simmered. This is fab, Julia.

  3. janet jacobs said,

    Beautiful πŸ™‚

  4. john said,

    For some odd reason, I have this incredible urge for al dente spaghetti, Italian bread with big, black oily olives and strong, strong espresso. I wonder why…

  5. crazy lady said,

    beautiful ~ puts a whole new prospective to simmering spagetti, for everytime I make it now I can drift off to Italy

  6. metonymy4u said,

    fabulous!

please feel free to comment on these poems - all feedback appreciated. :)

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