An Italian Fitting

This ringing is my day – repetition
on every hour of waking & sleep –
a toll of four minute peals across

my experiences – my difference in
what I feel & not what I am – Tours
of foreign lands less likely with all

those rules we are told to follow –
Let me put my face in a tidal heat
& roll away with burning cheeks –

Auld men shouldn’t dance to any
sub heart attack beats – Read a lie
in Latin left by a back street artist

[her tattoos rub ‘neath her tan – a
mark on her] – Un-subtle fawners
among Rome’s wall climbers – his

tailor – Catellani – held him tightly
by stitches & chalk line – We men
with an eye for beauty – I’m sorry

for your mistakes in translation &
look to online apps to track every
failure & bearing I will be creating