On a Greek Island

Half bare on baked white rock
we overlook the bay.
The day is hot. Dry light
bronzes our skin
and water's turquoise
blinds, silvered with stars.

Over white stucco
and red tiled roofs
a taverna's claríno
twists on the air.
Hear the shuffle of dancing
-Kalamatianós, Hasápiko-
Sniff the sweat and smoke
spitting as souvlaki turns.

In your hands,
moist vine leaves I've plucked
to roll with rice, ground meat,
lemon, and oil for us
like lean, shirt-sleeved men
to swallow with raki
when the sun
slips a bloodied fin
under the wave.

Susan Ioannou
Toronto, Ontario