Poem: Garibaldi the Duck
A poem about the legendary Giuseppe Garibaldi, "Hero of Two Continents"
This piece is part of The Choc-Board, a 30-day writing challenge from my friend Chocolate Knox. You can follow Chocolate Knox’s Diagnostic Doxology on Substack, as well as his profile on X.
Garibaldi the Duck Epigraph Thus, the two or so years before the outbreak of revolution in 1848 saw the first fashionings of a cult of Garibaldi. The building blocks of a story were laid… Garibaldi himself escaped and doubled back across the Apennines towards the Tuscan coast, but Anita died (of malaria or complications with her pregnancy, or both) and he had to leave her in a shallow grave in the marshes near Ravenna. Lucy Riall, Garibaldi: Invention of a Hero
Brazil I hear bells on the Bay of Ducks! The doubled bells on the Lake of Ducks are muffled by a muddy fog which prevents the Imperial forces from landing their sabres and horses or from finding their way through the bog. Close one! Garibaldi, build us a ship on the plains. Shape crafty sea-wains to be wheeled one day out to docks. The craft make such a sight! Two ships, shaped by wrights, on waves of grass with teams of ox. Pull them! They emerge from the wintery lakes as two gray and ghostly drakes, twin ships escaped overland. Call for the master Big John Griggs, Yankee sailor, master of rigs, Give him a boat to command. Take it! Big John dies at the Battle of Lacuna a great big hole where you stole his schooner, an even darker one in your heart. Ducks have one mate, for a season. Anita needs give you no reason But her Imperial soldier husband being apart. Take her! Uruguay Run away to a normal life. It’s a lie. Teach math in Uruguay To support the restless kids and wife. Accept a suicide mission, O you brilliant naval tactician, Then be ambushed and flee for your life. Look out! Italy Have you ducked at last one final time from the cannon’s blast? Giammai! Fight on, two continents’ hero! Twice from Rome you’re turned back, you turn coat so much you lose track. Eight major wars, winning zero. Once more! This is a life of romance, On horseback, gripping a lance, But a socialist rather than knight. A love affair worthy of tabloid’s pen, Two birds of a feather, drake and hen, Each an albatross to the other’s fight. Tilt on! An ambassador guarantees Safe passage, but you flee. Anita is pregnant and sick, a weight. With jägers in pursuit you fly, But in Ravenna she and the child die. She stayed with you until too late. Move on! After that, you duck out. You’re sorry, no doubt, Avoiding Italy until there’s peace. Ten years you wander alone, Seven times they exhume her bones. You finally bury her in Nice. Never rest! Memory Call out again for Big John! To your ugly duck the swan, He made a colorful line in your newspaper story. O you lover of many, and none, and more, O holder of religions not one but four, Your only constant is the chase for glory. Have you ducked at last one final time from cannon’s blast? Fight on! You’ve still time to lose to the Prussians. As you die you’ll recall when you first asked her to dance, an errant knight of empty romance and adventure without repercussion.
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