A Rare Visit

It was at night, while sleeping in
that realm where anything goes, 
anything can happen—unlike

day over which King Sun rules,
setting Life’s everyday business
into motion, ensuring everyone

obeys the orbits of his inexorable
laws—that you came to me Nonna,
in a house of pure luminous forms.

You came to me (or was it I who
came to you?), after all those
days trudging back and forth

to a job whose only meaning 
is survival; praying to you in
washroom stalls to help me

find the way, or placing another
pot of fresh flowers, another 
plastic cross at your graveside

over which sun, moon and seasons
turn in their inexorable orbits, I came
to you (or was it you who came

to me?), and you said: “Me sorry
figlio mio*. Me no have gifts for you.”

But I said: “That’s ok, Nonna.
You were my gift.”  Then we 
held each other and wept.

It’s all right, Nonna.  It was enough
to have seen you after so long since
you left this dreary world behind.

So that’s it, then.  Adesso capisco
tutto**. Victory’s gift fades in the daylight,
but comes alive at night. It’s all right…

*Italian for “My son”
**Italian for "Now I understand everything"