Cinque Terre

I climbed down the bones of the mountain
through olives blossoming
the vineyards and their baby grapes, the lemons
with their bright skin.

I took off my clothes.

The gulls were flying low above our heads
their golden bodies
one with the Tyrrhenian wind.

In the transparent cove
pink fish slid between great blocks of
uncut marble.

I scrambled across the rocks
felt the evening breeze on my unshaved body
and leapt in

not wondering whether I
too
belonged.

I ate and drank.
I lay skin-to-skin on the rocks and they
warmed me.

When night came,
I slept on the beach with my body.