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I spent all of Saturday in a kitchen
a whirlwind of
flour and eggs and
wine

one–– or was it two? glasses of spritz
and you looked up behind thick
eyelashes
"your tortellini looks really nice"

I blushed and gulped some moka
cheeks red from too much alcohol
and so much you

my stomach was grapes
and red saucy tagliatelle

the sun crawled across the carpet

and it danced the tarantella
swift quick circles
of bouncing gold

belly full and eyes glazed with juicy affection
we rolled back to your house all cool
all ready to smoke ****

the night slammed shut with my car door
and he texted me
"you are a little more Italian now"
my dreams and aspirations
cannot be confined to this textbook
for it can’t teach me how to
walk the cobblestoned streets of stockholm,
surf the waters of bondi beach,
ride the canals of amsterdam,
nor hike the city of cinque terre.

but here i am, not knowing what the future holds in store for me,
just waiting for the time to come
of which i can experience
the joy that is to travel.
City of eternal wonders
An empire built,
fallen, re-animated
alive and never broken.
There lay ruins
old and modern,
monuments of marble
stumbled on by hoofs
and carriages shrieking
on the cobbled streets
poisoned by uncultured
tourists.
But in the little streets
lay a calm
silence not many
can hear.
The beauty is underneath
hidden, not all will see.
It's heart keeps beating:
like fine wine,
it improves with time.
andY Oct 6
we walked to the market
and debated tomatoes
had time on our hands
met grandmas like angels

shared a slice of margarita
on the bench back to the site
can’t find the right words now
but girl that felt right

maybe this trip
mile after mile
will stand as the last
one of our highs
AsianTapWater Aug 10
I still remember that day. The pain in his eyes as my boss dragged me away. The way he lifted his arm, as if he wanted to grab me and bring me back to him. The looks of scorn and disappointment in everyone's eyes as they watched us be separated. The small smile on that American man's face as he realises that he, the 'hero', has once more 'saved the day'.

I sigh as I slowly close the bedroom door. It has been a whole year. Why am I still thinking about him?
I spot a piece of paper and a quill laying in a jar of ink on my desk. Maybe I should write him a letter. But would he read it? Will he even receive it? I might as well try.

8/5/1946

Dear Germany,

Ciao! It's been a while, hasn't it?
How are you? Do you need help paying off debts?
I'm getting very lonely here.
Even my Fratello is avoiding me.

A lot has happened since the war ended.
I have a new anti-fascist government.
People started going around killing fascists.
It was really scary, but my boss said it was the right thing to do.
I know they were bad, but I don't like watching people die!

I hope you're ok.
Austria said you were feeling sick after your mean boss died.
But you didn't really look so good before that, either...

Anyways!
Do you want pasta?
I know it isn't your favourite
But I want to do something for your birthday.

We are still friends, right?

Please reply,
Italy Veneziano
Finally, a poem+story for my Isolated AU. Well, sort-of poem. Not sure what it is. The letter is written on VE Day, one year after the end of WW2. Fratello means brother in Italian, the brother of course is Romano/South Italy. Germany's mean boss is Adolf ******.
About Isolated: In this AU, the three main Axis countries are separated from each other and forced to cut all forms of contact after WW2. Also, Prussia dies and Gilbird lives with Germany.
And for you Americans, the date is 5/8/1946. Don't know why you guys like backwards dates, but ok.
Chris Saitta Jun 5
Sicily is the golden caesura of history,
Where the human poem is paused to hear
The exalted precipice of its own sigh.
acacia May 30
Everyone has the most feral of dreams to hang on to,
to linger around — we stink of these dreams.
And I’m here in here, too,
in this painting you see
with birds huddled over the wall
and bees hiding in the bushes.
As for me, I am over the rainbow,
between this bench, and I go
through the fence;
my heart lingers here
and flowers continue to grow.

You flow and snake into my dreams;
you capture the poison holding me,
and you see the world for who it is.
You continue to kiss each blade of grass
as you kneel on one boney knee.
You don’t even bruise,
your skin is the most supple,
the most velvet,
the most intimate,
like a babe with eyes of entrancement.
Coil around my arm,
nuzzle into my vellum,
kiss the smooth-stone of my cheeks.

Taste the coconuts that crawl
off my skin;
coconuts orbit like you,
like planets orbit like stars --
and you don’t question it.
It is apart of your nature
and apart of mine
and apart of yours.
You coil like a tendril, a green tendril...
Chris Saitta May 24
The dead lie like Rome,
Like toppled sunshine in stone,
From a boy who had blown
Into the seashell of the Forum,
Heard back in restoning, the alley of home,
The narrow, basket-flowered angiportum…
But, lips too strong, let out unknown
The stone-witherings of Medusa
And the bone dust of empire.
Chris Saitta May 13
Venezia, its musical key of brick and shade
And the canals in rejoining polyphony
Sweeten the dour Church-ear.  
From the impasto knife and loose brushwork,
A thumb-smear of waves and gently-bristled strife
Rise to assumption of the cloud-submerged bay,
Mural of cristallo, only-light without landscape,
Made too from the winds of Murano,
Its clayed blowpipe of waterways molding
The lagoon of blown glass and bouquet of colored sea-shadows.

The Tiber lies on its side, like the lion and fox,
Licking its paws at empire’s dust,
A drifting gaze of water that already foresees
The swift-run northward to Romagna,
Where the veined fur of the roe will succumb…
A ripple twitches like one dark claw of the Borgia…

The watercolors of the Arno are a fresco
On the wet plaster of the lips of Firenze, Tuscan fire-dream.
Or like the warring leg in curve of counterpoise,
Sprung foot-forward to the daring world
And arm slung down in stone-victory
From this valley, too much like Elah,
With taunting eyes turned from the Medici toward Rome.
Titian revolutionized the style of painting that contained no landscape in his "Assumption of the ******" (circa 1515)
"cristallo" is actually a term that means clear glass, or glass without impurities, and was invented around the time of the Renaissance.
"the lion and fox" was a nickname for Cesare Borgia.
"Romagna" was his intended conquest.
"Elah" was the valley where the Israelites camped when David defeated Goliath
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