My Tuscany
by Cari Oleskewicz
Outside my window
Brunelleschi’s Dome communes
with clouds.
Outside my door
wine in jugs of straw
cheeses draped with honey.
I have no right to walk
ancient streets carved
by Renaissance ghosts.
I have no reason to suppose
I am a Florentine
worshipping the tombs of genius.
My Tuscany does not resemble
the land you see in movies.
This is no travel blog.
My Tuscany is the butcher’s
fingernails, stained with blood
and piazzas bleeding stories.
This is where the world
keeps changing. Medici watch
while creation blooms again.
This is where leather sells,
where immigrants peddle
trinkets for coin.
After living here,
how does one stop
living here?
After living here,
I must brace myself
for days that I do not.
IMAGE: “Florence Cathedral” (Tuscany Region, Italy) by Cari Oleskewicz.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Cari Oleskewicz is a poet and writer based in Tampa. Florida, and Tuscany, Italy — depending on the season. Her work has been published in a number of online and print journals including The Found Poetry Review, JAB, Diverse Voices Quarterly, Five2One, The Commonline Journal, The Pedestal Magazine, Main Street Rag, Epiphany Magazine and Imitation Fruit Literary Journal. She is pursuing her MFA from the University of Tampa.
Silver Birch Press 
You have captured the soul of the land in your poetry.
Cari, I like this poem so much. You capture the old historical and almost mythical Florence with the day to day real-life Florence. The magic between these two places is where you live. Beautifully done.