Ithaca at the Hospice

Vasiliki Albedo

I recite Ithaca to my uncle

because he used to read it to me

and reminisce about his native Smyrna

with the salty ache Cavafy captured.

For sixty-seven years he traded

petroleum and cacao with the rising ocean.

I need to work—his motto. Down the steps

in his son’s arms, wheelchair to the office.

Can you front me a loan? he asked last month.

Today his tongue is a dry thorn,

eyes glistening with ointment.

A few puny trees trim the traffic

but the hospice faces a wall

ascending to the thick, dioxide sky.

I read to him Ithaca again, the poem

about Odysseus’ homeward return.

In the sails of his lungs,

nostos and Aegean air.

VASILIKI ALBEDO’s poems have appeared in The Poetry Review, Poetry London, Oxford Poetry, Mslexia, Magma, Wasafiri, The Rialto and elsewhere. She won the Hammond House International Literary Prize for Poetry 2023, The Poetry Society’s Stanza Competition 2022, and Poetry International’s Summer 2021 Tiny Chapbook Competition.