Three poems

At the International Halal Centre

I look at the Diamond Fish.

I touch the aubergines –

a Sicilian cardinal vibrates.

I cross the park –

It’s a gorgeous day.

Conkers everywhere.

I get home

with my neurological leg

I waited at the molo for a boat.

The boat to Camogli.

The old man said Di solito é preciso.

I will arrive like a cardinal,

like a pope, like the emperor,

like the Lady of Succour

in the port of Camogli

flying fish my fellow travellers.

An escort.

Fishwives in ecstasy.

Happy I was.

I waited at the molo.

I saw boats in the distance

cutting through the Ligurian sea.

They wanted glitter.

The immaculate glitter!

Rapallo, Santa Margherita, Sori.

The old man said Di solito é preciso.

Precision didn’t come.

Nothing came.

Camogli no go.

I stayed in Recco,

horrible, bombed Recco.

I drank three Negronis.

One, two, three

                                   pop

There’s an olive leaf above the plinth.

There’s a minotaur in the labyrinth.

There are dahlias in a broken pot

and some geraniums in a sunspot.

There’s a freight train going too fast.

Fox gloves, hollyhocks, thyme.

There’s honeysuckle, there’s sunshine.

There’s the dictatorship of rhyme.

There are pears and quince and kumquats

and an empty bottle of champagne.

I absolutely know I’ll get the blame.

I catch sight of a cello under the wisteria.

Statues, Greek, a cat, some fish –

                                                      hysteria