by John Fitzgerald

For John and Elizabeth Montague

Crossing the causeway at Roscarberry

I think of Marco Polo arriving into Kinsai

and his amazement at its grandeur and size:  

The most splendid city in the world,

connected by twelve thousand bridges, 

with wide roads and magnificent buildings

and people engaged in all kinds of occupations.

As a boy, I ached to know

how the Great Khan’s wives felt when

loaned to his special guests — and how far they would go. 

Much later, on West Lake, it became clear

that the feelings of others are a distant country

far away from home. 

Oldcourt, and the length of a brown rat 

streaks across the smooth grey asphalt.

Waiting at Colla Pier

between sun-showers 

emerald flies enjewel the blackberries.