Gabriele's sonnet

I did not learn your name or hear you speak.

Cast in bronze, try Gabriele? I thought

you suited that; the seraphim of week

one in Altea. Black two-piece. I caught

a wink, a smirk over the shoulder. Dive

in. Spying from the Spanish balcony,

third floor, your evening moves stir in me, live,

some fear I can’t forget. Emerge, salt sea-

wet, take a seat at Bar Negreta, please.

The vodka mixed with sweat, fruit, youth – I sip

and meet you there. Eighteen. Exchange room keys.

I seize you – no. Not close. Boys, only. Tip

the waiter. Heady rise from fantasy

or spirits, watching heart ache silently.