La marea montante

By  Daniel Aristi

In between the little deaths we suffer
Every night, i piccoli morti, we do our thing
Quickly —
An espresso, my Veronese grandpa told me
Is a shot of night. Vaccinate yourself
To withstand the gut illness of darkness.
Pull up the blankets in bed, he said
It’s the rising tide — la marea montante. One day
It’ll rise past your chest
Oh-oh, yes
Past your chest.