Amerigo Vespucci

 

The naming rights, it turns out, never seem

to go to the noblest, the first, the most

meritorious — not when we’re naming dreams

and planting our flags, appeasing the ghosts

of what we fear. Who doesn’t love a con

man? He said he’d been there — four times! He told

the best story — we loved it! On maps drawn

from memory we saw dragons and gold,

spices, condos glimmering in the sun —

such easy terms, such beaches! And what really

got us was the girls — so young, so free,

so naked, so unencumbered by shame

or by God. They’re not like us. We aren’t stealing

it, we’re making it — this chance to be

something, to start with nothing but a name.

 

 

© Michael Fleming

Brattleboro, Vermont

December 2013

 

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