Avalon

I. Via Casino

Sitting beneath the palms
eyes closed on a Sunday
legs stretched into sun
from my cotton skirt
like I wore the summer we met.

The languages walk past
The stone seat is cool
against my back.

I remember the warmth
of your shoulders
in the evening
your gentle fingers
saying Catarina, Catarina.

II. Avalon

Yesterday morning
I passed through the Old Town
without meaning to
on my way to the fish market.

I stopped below the building
where we had been together.

The plaster is crumbling
in the salt air, like us.

I dared to look at the shaded balcony
that hung out over the harbor,
saw again our drowsing at noon
the sun shimmering on the sea
behind us.

Oh, Pedro, Pedro,
let us throw our bones back
into the sea.

@Copyright Kay Winter

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