Page 51 - Diane Musgrove Issue

POE TR Y C ORNER

The Magic of Montepulciano

Dom Gagliardi
The road dips and winds You spread out in front of me
undulating through verdant fields in concentric rings,
as our car traverses the past and present, as you grew over time.
until within the silent distance I trace the steps of the narrow vicolo
you appear perched upon the hill that spread from the spine
in your medieval majesty of your grand street
with your red-tiled roofs huddled together. and flow like rivulets on either side.
Grand arches hover over them
Your gargantuan splendor looms large, as they bolster the buildings on either side,
as my heart races, where each step brings new wonder
and my brain teases, as I attempt to know all your complexities.
and the wheels turn faster in impatient anticipation.
And then we crawl, The cyber cafe
as we inch our way through your vein-like streets where I sip my Vino Nobile is damp and cool.
that stretch from your heart past San Biagio. Its ancient thick block walls present a juxtaposition.
I wonder of the geometric genius
The villa I now call home that erected the space more than five centuries ago,
still clings to your western wall, when the brain and strained muscle sinew
as I soak in the rays conquered the lack of tools.
and dream of an Etruscan sun of two thousand years ago
when your first fertile roots dug deep Beneath my fingers lies the silver box
hoping for safe haven from invading Barbarians. that will take me anywhere when I press its keys.
Its coded genius of zeroes and ones
You hover between the Val d’Oro and Val di Chiana confounds my intellect too,
as my eyes slide down your gentle folds while I abuse it without understanding it,
to the valleys below, appreciating the extolled praise of its ability
pleated like a long gown, as noteworthy and deserved.
bejeweled with rows of cypress
in your narrow creases. But I venture back almost a thousand years
and am just as perplexed by what I see.
Your gates once locked to save you The battle between knowledge and imagination
from your enemies both Florentine and Sienese, looms larger as I wonder if we are any smarter.
now welcome your guests with open arms. Our knowledge builds and bears more progress,
The battle for your unbridled beauty left you wounded, but I consider the man in his own context
but scarred with marvelous treasures, to wonder where the true genius lies.
as conquering noble families competed
to out rule each other As we wallow in the conceits of our greatness
and leave you more magnificent than the time before. and submerge ourselves
Within the legacy of this architectural collage, in the virtues of our science,
the Florentines persist in the scattered relics we continue to ignore the greatest leaps of faith
of the Giglio and marzocco and palazzi. with condescension and irreverence
as we bury ourselves in smug ignorance.
I roam the cobblestone corso
climbing from your Porta al Prato 1) San Biagio Church-Renaissance-style church outside the walls of
to your apex at Piazza Grande. Montepulciano
The ache in my legs 2) giglio—lily flower
and my shortness of breath 3) marzocco—heraldic lion that is symbol of Florence
are like a tumult in my brain, 4) palazzi-palaces
where I picture 5) Val d’Oro and Val di Chiang-two valleys on either side of
the muscled thighs and sun-charred shoulders Montepulciano
of dusty, beaded-sweated men 6) Porta al Prato—main gate into walled town of Montepuliciano
chiseling, cutting, carrying stone 7) Piazza Grande—main square in Montepulciano
and travertine to compose the masterpieces 8) Vicolo-narrow passage
that now stand before me 9) Vino Nobile-short for Vino Nobile di Montepulciano wine
and overwhelm my comprehension,
each building like a fortress unto itself.

These selections are from the forthcoming collection titled “Reflections from the Edge”.
To join the interest list for its first publication, contact me at dom.gagliardi@cox.net 51