Resurrection of Time Now Dead By a Poet Who is Going Blind, #4

RESURRECTION OF TIME NOW DEAD
BY A POET GOING BLIND, 4


I awoke to wonder where I was.
It is Rio Freddo in Italy.
By the cedar chest at the foot of the bed
An old dog slept and grunted
throughout the night.
I still recall the sound
of the dog’s footsteps
And he walked up the steps
to my albergo room.
This dog and I had just met
a few hours before
In front of a fireplace where cheese glowed
Against a background of thick soot
on the bricks.
I had sit a wooden table,
thick boards and grayed
By time to an off-white coloring.
The soup, spicy,
A lobster leg floated atop the liquid.
The dog like a blanket had covered
my cold feet.
I habitually dream I am a horse
and harnessed,
But dreams that night I galloped wildly
Without a harness through fields
of wild yellow flowers
Shaped like the snowflakes of Rio Freddo.


Duane Locke

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