We flew into Milan at dawn
our train left early for the coast

shuffled into a compartment
empty except for old upholstery
and stale heat

the lullaby tracks lulled us to sleep
and I’m not sure what woke me
but the gray city had gone

our train was threading
tunnels through a cliff

day and night
night and day

glimpses of the Ligurian Sea
cool green against the damp
morning and how my heart leapt–!

My heart
it was still there
it was there all along

The sea swallows were
returning early that year

thousands of feet above an empty sea
do you think they dreamed of stopping?

[The one good thing about moving is finding paper copies of poems you wrote and then lost]