~Venice, February 2002
Empty-eyed, paper-mache bird heads
stare through windows, hang with beaks
turned down toward the street. Red,
purple, jewels and feathered masks line
dark walls. A rainbow of plumage
covers holes, nails, and centuries old
stains that resist layers of paint. Cat eyes,
bird eyes, hollowed out, lined with jewels
reflect the single bulb above them.
In the street, orange and yellow sunset
reaches across gondolas, resting on the sea,
tied, waiting for tourists and drivers. They rock
against one another, knocking on the concrete
wall, count the seconds till darkness.I hold
my breath on the Bridge of Sighs, wait
to hear the moans of prisoners echo
between walls and the sound of waves hitting
boats that carry the damned. I only hear
heels, sharp and thin, striking brick
walkways. The sun has set. Shadows
stand tall against street lights. A lone waiter
sits and smokes in front of a window
filled with streamers.
Alone in Plaza de San Marco,
I grasp the blessed, blue rosary
from the basilica. Four horses, replicas
of the stolen Quadriga, hover over the edge
above me, only the sound of my breath
fills the space. From the corner, a clown,
painted white and red with black lines that jut
from his eyes. His suit, purple and blue
with bells. He skips across the plaza, pirouettes,
and covers me with showers of confetti.
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