home | notebook index | site map

Ithaca

after C P Cafavy

Leave me no photographs,
leave me nothing
but a quick note scribbled in black biro on a memo pad,
or if you insist,
the postcard from Ithaca:
Sun woke us early, went diving, caught an octopus.

I remember Ithaca,
arriving without sleep on the ferry,
the old sand and olive trees with nothing to sell me.

Two hands on this postcard,
an unmatched pair,
but the same sure, agile cross to the T.

This postcard –
dog-eared,
gloss-coated sea cracked,
pine trees bleached yellow:
two greetings inscribed in pale ballpoint,
ink over-franked Airmail
indenting the card,
strong enough to read.

Matthew John Williams
2006