Dedicated to Iddu, our ancestral
and unique volcano on Stromboli
My friends are curious and want to know
“Why must you dwell in volcanoes, child?”
The caldera occults a world defiled,
Pollution filtered through its fumarole.
Most oceans touch a land mass prey to fire.
In Herculaneum, their brains were fried,
Gassed, vitrified — few mourners left to cry
When Fate tapped locals for an ashpit’s pyre.
While folks are busy causing climate change,
Ignoring tragedies, disasters sure
To come, longevity’s got no brochure.
I’ve turned away, embraced a deep, dark strange.
I mated with divinity: Iddu.
His manhood can’t be stilled for long because
He loves to blonde his lower slopes, hide flaws
With golden broom, its beauty thus renewed.
From Pluto’s jukebox, sex is hot. What’s not
To love? His root expands. Earth flipsides up,
Its perishables gas-ejected, cupped
In my scorched palms like gems. He’s my big shot.
Competing with Vesuvius, demure,
Her face front closed in an extended chord
Of silence, swearing he’ll be bored, milord
Is generous with fireworks. Want a tour?
