In Search of Lost Time
on the plane
she asks
if the past ever passes
we stand side by side
on the balcony balcony
eating gelato ...
the June moon
comes out and turns red
taking photos of her
pushing the Leaning Tower
of Pisa
those three words
slip out of my mouth
tourists crowd
around Leda and the Swan
I wonder
if our first kiss
was a real one
a homeless man
playing the blues harp
on the steps
in Piazza di Spagna...
a summer cloud passes
gazing
at the moonlit Colosseum
she slips
her hand out of mine
and starts monologuing
Duomo at dusk...
is its shadow
broad enough to cover
the space
between her heart and mine
running outside
into the Venice night air
with the burden
of soaked memories...
I feel the length of longing
standing alone
before a wooden Jesus
in a side chapel
does Adam remember
the dust of his clay
broken shadows
in the moonlit garden
I alone
murmur in my mother tongue
on this dreamless night
Atlas Poetica, #10, Fall 2011
eating gelato ...
the June moon
comes out and turns red
taking photos of her
pushing the Leaning Tower
of Pisa
those three words
slip out of my mouth
tourists crowd
around Leda and the Swan
I wonder
if our first kiss
was a real one
a homeless man
playing the blues harp
on the steps
in Piazza di Spagna...
a summer cloud passes
gazing
at the moonlit Colosseum
she slips
her hand out of mine
and starts monologuing
Duomo at dusk...
is its shadow
broad enough to cover
the space
between her heart and mine
running outside
into the Venice night air
with the burden
of soaked memories...
I feel the length of longing
standing alone
before a wooden Jesus
in a side chapel
does Adam remember
the dust of his clay
broken shadows
in the moonlit garden
I alone
murmur in my mother tongue
on this dreamless night
Atlas Poetica, #10, Fall 2011
