Gaby Bedetti

Inky the octopus went against type,   
crawled out of his tank, eager to flee,  
slid on the floor, slipped down a pipe,   
swam into the frothy welcoming sea.  
Alone on my last swim in the ocean,  
buoyant in the midday sun,  
I floated with a shimmering motion,   
my body rocking, life just begun.  
Moments lift us out of time and space,   
flash by despite endless wars:  
jitterbugging with jaunty grace,  
sleeping and talking under the stars,  
eating a peach and listening to bees   
in a gazebo in the hills of Tennessee. 

Gaby Bedetti is a photographer, writer, teacher, and translator working in Lexington, Kentucky. Her work has appeared in Rhino, Puerto del Sol, World Literature Today, and other journals. She is circulating a co-translation of the poems of Henri Meschonnic, a writer who believed in language’s ability to dissolve borders.