ariella

ariella, you're yellow
in Moscow with mum.
you're seven. you fidget.
your legs are quite numb
in the pews of St. Basil's.
your head nods in sleep.
you're innocent now from
blonde head to small feet.

ariella, you're green
in Manhatten. The sky is
all weathered and battered,
as blue as your eye is.
you sit on the steps of the high
school and swoon.
you've peace, but you know
you'll be gone from here soon.

ariella, you're silver
in Avignon. Habits
form silently, tracing the backs
of our eyelids.
the country is russet, your letters
blank pages.
you can't stay forever, so
you try to erase it.

ariella, you're violet
in Stockholm with Aunt.
you're twenty-two. you want
to stay, but you can't.
the swedish boys haunt you.
they tear you to pieces.
you giggle when they take
a swipe at your breeches.

ariella, with Nonna
in Lugano. you're red.
the church bells ring out
sixteen tolls for the dead.
your conscience fades quick
with terra-cotta tiles.
will you tarnish your memories?
can you bear now to smile?

ariella, you're blue now
in Boston alone.
there's a boy on your loveseat
who's answered your phone.
you've grown up and grown
out. can you feel
your face?
dirt's smeared on your collar.
what's one more damned space?

ariella, you're white now.
the boat still is docking.
you stand on the shore in your
white linen stockings.
you smile as Tel Aviv sand
eats at your feet.
in the place where you started,
you've finally found home.