Archive 08/15/10 - (2)

 

   

Domenica

                                                                  

 

Myriad mellifluous bells swell Venice's Sunday-morning vesper-dawn,

Like musical breezes making space for us —

Two sleeping souls about to leave dreaming's denouement.

 

We awaken into spontaneity's natural arousal,

Whose cadences create expectations we've come to appreciate,

Each night and day of our elation's Italian vacation,

 

As though these occasions of our flesh's togetherness

Were mystic manifestations of our relationship's renascence,

Innate, integral components in the life of the cosmos.

 

Before we realize it, we're seated in a sleek black gondola

Edging slowly away from its tenuous mooring

At Piazza San Marco's teeming riva.

 

For a deep-breath-taking moment,

We close our eyes and listen to the vessel's soothing, flowing sway,

See, with a poetic view, the Grand Canal caressing the bow.

 

After an hour of palazzo facades, low stone bridges,

Walls whose eroded stucco exposes the red flesh of bricks,

And arabesque windows, balconies, meandering canals,

 

Our gondolier's controlled, thrusting strokes of his waterborne oar

Insinuate us with the glorious rhythms of the earth's body,

Inviting our bodies to emulate them, once more.

 

As you squeeze my hand, kiss my lips leaning longingly into yours,

Whisper, with your glistening eyes and articulate smile,

A litany of "I love everything about you"s,

I know that no matter how often I've been here before,

I've not ever been here till now

And never has Domenica spoken, to me, so romantically.

 

 

 

        

 

08/15/10 - (2)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 
 
 
 
       

 

 

 
   
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