Sobremesa

After lunch, we remained at the table, chatting
about everything and nothing, letting time
fade like culaccini between us on the glass.

I glanced through the sash window, out to the channel,
where an iceberg, after centuries of staying
put, had suddenly calved loose like a boxer’s tooth.

It unhooked its bulk from its brothers and set off
towards stretches of meltwater or falling tides.

I watched transfixed as this frozen dry dock glided
into shot, slow as an unwound clock, in no rush
to reach its resting spot. You touched my hand, hoping
to heal the fissures… to stop the ice from breaking.