Enter With Caution

ENTER WITH CAUTION


There will be the smell
of Greek sunlight with her
when she walks
from the train to the tram
that goes to Monastiraki Square.
She will walk to the brothel-
turned-hotel from there.
The next day there will be
the smell of crude oil
on the freighter from Piraeus
to an island.
She will be watching almond trees on
the mountain for the most
of the next seven years after that.
A goat bleating near its mother
by the stone house.
The well-cover bangs shut in October.
The sea is too strong all winter,
roaring even when it’s silent.
Covering her head completely
when she walks to town
along the edge of the shore.
The shepherd-boy sitting on a table
at the back of the taverna,
surrounded by happy farmers
giving him wine to drink.
Buying fresh donuts from the man
carrying them through the village
on his head every Monday.
Swimming in the sea all afternoon,
then eating the melon.
Twelve-year-old Stephanie
in only the bottom
of her bathing suit, standing
with great bunches of grapes,
laughing and jumping up and down
in the aqua water.
Walking to the mountain
where gods have been honored,
the brightness of the sun stunning.
Seeing broken libation cups in the weeds.
Living alone with the magnitude.
So close to the laws of its nature.

Linda Gregg

Posted over on Poet Island Press