Born in Perugia, Italy, a graduate of the Catholic University of the Sacred Heart (Milan, Italy) and of Mills College (Oakland, CA), Simona Carini writes poetry and nonfiction and has been published in various venues, in print and online, including Intima – A Journal of Narrative Medicine, Sheila-Na-Gig Online, the Journal of Humanistic Mathematics, the American Journal of Nursing, Star 82 Review. She lives in Northern California with her husband and works as a data scientist at an academic research institution. Her website is https://simonacarini.com
Geyser Strokkur hurls water at the sky:
the spout collapses, sprays around. A pause,
again: Hot water explodes at each beat
of earth’s boiling heart. Up the road, Gullfoss:
the Hvítá river falls then falls again.
We stand a step away from cancer’s lurch:
the reins will fail and death approach and pound
like water the rock floor. Until that day,
I need no geyser nor cascade, but crave
lava fields softened by ancient moss
that grows at coral’s speed, Icelandic horse
and I trotting on Viking trails all breeze
and drizzle. I smell wet earth, horse’s sweat,
taste nostalgia for a place not yet left
and ache for someone not yet lost.