Poem-a-Day

    ^{They’re always the saddest,
      Venetian farewells . . .
                      —Alexandr Blok}

The most extravagant light
Is Venetian I know & I have
This on the best authority—
Gore himself told me twice
Over dinner at Michael’s place
In Rome & yet I think
Ruskin considered Venice an
Especially stony story & I love
How Trude proposed Venice as
The world’s unconscious
Our dank lagoon-cradle of all art
Just as Veronica Franco’s
Undressing of moonlight along
The Grand Canal mirrored
The light Joseph praised as he
Sketched the dawn’s blush
Brushing across the face
Of Santa Maria della Salute
Most men thought Byron a bit
Light-handed with their wives
Naming an arch of last goodbyes
The Bridge of Sighs still I’ll admit
There’s nowhere I’ve felt ever
Quite so much myself—& I miss
My Venice village by the Pacific
As deeply as its sister La Serenissima
I miss my Craftsman house on Rialto
Masked Carnivale raccoons & fat
Possum shadows on its skylights
At full moon . . . a soul knows they’re
Always the saddest Venetian farewells