Venice Poem by Donatien Moisdon
Venice
Steel voices rape the air,
shake spires and crack stones
till, dreamily, do some
fall on crowded plazas
and burst in fireworks.
Industrial, acrid chimneys
vomit their stains at marble fronts
and smear lengthy, wet kisses
on bas-relief and ormelus.
When Venice has disappeared
it won't be long before we sink
in our very own
grey
silt.
Wednesday, March 30, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: pollution
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5/19/2024 8:02:27 AM # 1.0.0.1119
