From I Thought Elvis Was Italian, published by Wolsak & Wynn in 2008.

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pictures of my father slick-haired & sideburned

 my uncles had all his albums

 older cousins played the hawaii concert

 whenever I was over

 thought he had to change his name

 like dean martin did

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 the leather

 the rings & gold chains

 the way he moved his hips

 his lips

 the leather

 the sicilian black of his hair

 the way he borrowed the tune of “o sole mio”

 for his song “it’s now or never”

 his best friend named esposito

 the leather

 his fixation with cars

 the way he looked at women

 the way he put on weight

 how close he was to his mother

 the leather

 the black velvet posters in everyone’s basement

 movies dubbed in italian

 he was played at weddings after tarantellas

 the leather the rings

 gold chains

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 if he’s still alive he’s in his 70s

 eyeing his blood pressure

 sitting in the courtyard of his villa

 in some tiny southern italian village

 deserted by emigration

 a new graceland

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 talking sideways since the stroke

 he sometimes plays the mandolin

 sings in an ancient dialect

 known only to farmers

 he smiles at chickens

 who peck at his feet

 cats dance in the shade

his eyes moving slowly

under a mediterranean sun

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