dimanche 2 août 2015

Venezia

The dominant colour is of cream,
the smooth, time-honoured white of
aristocratic skins
and museum pilasters;
and yellow, luminous
of limoncello, signs for the vaporetto
or the €4 sandals bought
to stay cool under a hard noon
sun.

This is a city that walks on
salt water, is wound
around it like a tightly
coiled spool of thread,
moving marc and
refuse through the
devoted flow of the
tributaries and
traghetti.

It is glass in window
shops, golden apostles
above lights and
entries of old. Where
ships came in; and were
lost for a pound of
flesh or a walk
of shame of a pick
pocket in a palazzo
of sky-ward masques,
cameras and pigeons.

The striped Grand
gondoliers stirring
Venezia into a cast
spell of Perniccia’s
golden time

held world.





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