Down the Via Scalo
To Spiagga dello Scario
Past lemon groves
Past Malvasia vines
To the ocean’s jewel
And the rocking boulders
Of that beach
And picking some stones
The memento mori
For a distant shelf
For a future inside
A room removed
From the vivid green
Mountains of Salina
And distant plumes
Of Stromboli
Those fires those fires
That bloom consistently
Against a soft horizon
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