Last Night
︎︎︎ Joe Amato
︎ May 29, 2025
A third time
into the lake
from whose center
I could see
two granite peaks
brace the sky
blank and blue
arcing over us
while fish bit my feet,
numb like my fingers
from this baptism
too cold for you,
sunning on a rock, answering
your Apple Watch,
Mi senti? Sono
in montagna…
As you feared,
the trail vanished
on the descent
to the river, car,
valley road and
highway, shower,
dinner, stroll
through town, couch
and screen’s infinite
scroll. Half
past two! But
tonight, before we
sleep, turn, embrace
me. Let me
see your face half-lit,
half-dark. Open
your eyes: it’s
me beneath you
and tomorrow
I take the train.
into the lake
from whose center
I could see
two granite peaks
brace the sky
blank and blue
arcing over us
while fish bit my feet,
numb like my fingers
from this baptism
too cold for you,
sunning on a rock, answering
your Apple Watch,
Mi senti? Sono
in montagna…
As you feared,
the trail vanished
on the descent
to the river, car,
valley road and
highway, shower,
dinner, stroll
through town, couch
and screen’s infinite
scroll. Half
past two! But
tonight, before we
sleep, turn, embrace
me. Let me
see your face half-lit,
half-dark. Open
your eyes: it’s
me beneath you
and tomorrow
I take the train.
Joe Amato is a writer and culture strategist based in San Francisco. He received an inaugural Passage Prize for poetry.