Ian Seed


I wanted to go further, but couldn't.
A door opened.

The pair I hardly knew –
Could we visit you in Italy this spring?

At first I thought the room was empty
but then I sensed someone else was in there

a woman or a child perhaps.
Never had I known such warmth.

And waited, not wanting the moment to pass.
To accept that you are accepted.

The wide mark of a river
faded frescoes in the village no one visits anymore,

unknowable thoughts of a girl
who smiles with broken teeth:

finding the thread in another language
nothing resolved, everything enriched