Mediterranean

Nude architecture,
unmade by your mixed skin
governed by all- and mostly the sun,
back in time, through a walled ocean
and arabic sweets drifting past each colonial nose;
You are all that we are,
and them too, three continents in your
spotted islands, moles speaking
through ancient ports and closed windows,
sneaking out of homes
luring us to tint the line between
their land and our sea.