Auckland Poetry

La Barcaccia
“The fountain of the Boat”

A boy, of twelve, cups his hand and drink water from
the fountain near the Spanish steps, while watching
the traffic that seems anarchistic and cars park with
total disregard to fellow users of roads; he is twelve,
dreams of owning a Vespa scooter when fifteen,
but for now he has an old bike, not many boys, his
age, have got one.

It is seven thirty in the evening, a mild April day 1961,
the day is over, Bellini is still open and so is Vanity Fair,
selling expensive dresses and lingerie’s; but Roland’s
the Jeweler has shut shop, by the spring people sit and
are sociable, as most Romans are the hum and harmonies
of their voices make it good to be human

The fountain was designed by Pietro Bernini 1627 and
represent a sinking boat that sank here after a flooding.
And it was washed up at this spot. The boy doesn’t
know that, it doesn’t matter, it had been a fine day when
all was well in Rome and no one spoke of carbon foot
prints in the sky and other silly things

Fontana Della Galera
(Fountain of the galleon)

If I were a child and it was June 1961 I would have
enjoyed to have been captain of the galleon fountain,
near the Bramante’s stairs in the Vatican’s garden;
in my swimming trunk I would lead sailors into battle,
and strike an Errol Flynn pose.

Have the pope come to the window, dressed in white,
look down and wave, I would feel sorry for him ask
a guard if the pope can come down and be my mate,
he looked so lonely up there in the window. The guard
will tell a priest, there are many of them around,
the prelate will find this funny and tell the pope who
will come to the window, bless me and regret that he
never married and became a café owner in Berlin.

But I would not know or care to know that the fountain
was made in the 17th century, by Maderna, of whom
I know little, but I think he also was the chap who made
the Bramante’s stairs. If I go there now they will not
let me in as they would have done, the summer of 1961.