My trip here is not like Saint Paul’s– I am not here by accident,
and I don’t bring some new religion in my wake, some mode
of thought that will conquer the island, the region, for millennia.
Beneath me, floating inside the ring of buoys, small bream pass.
In the channel, boats glide by– a dayfisher, a coast guard cutter,
a pleasure yacht. The sun rises over the tan limestone of Valletta–
the abandoned hospital of the Knights of St. John across the water,
the new high rises across the way, the shipyard cranes yet still.
My foot stings where I have peeled it raw, remnant of an old
but powerful self-hatred. The city walls rise, their gunports
staring mutely. The water envelops me. Am I an invader? Maybe.
I am here to share some science, to answer the age-old question
of whether one can model diabetic pain with fruit flies. One can.
Between the sessions I heal myself by floating in this ancient brine.
My foot stings. Bream again pass below. The sun rises further
and the ancient stone walls begin to glow in the yellow light.
An entombed crusader’s ghost inhales across from the hotel spa,
some yogic deep breath for the new millennium. I hold my own.
Michael J. Galko is a scientist and poet who lives and works in Houston, TX. He was a 2019 Pushcart Award nominee, a finalist in the 2020 Naugatuck River Review narrative poetry contest, and a finalist in the 2022 Bellevue Literary Review poetry contest. In the past year he has had poems published or accepted at Stillwater Review, Cagibi, Spillway Magazine, New Plains Review, and Cordite Poetry Review (Australia), among other journals..