The Silver of Serenissima’s Lagoon beneath the Surface of the Wet Blossom
The rose extended one pink petal for
The present, rain. The platform (made of sheen,
Of satin, velvet) waited for that pour
Of cleanliness, cleanliness so clean
It held itself up proudly innocent
Above the soil. below the sky, between
The earth and heaven where the air is meant
To be that holiness afloat in green.
The other petals caught the drops and held
Them folded close, much closer to the heart.
For weeks the rose had dreamed and slept, then swelled
To take the gift as sure as Bonaparte
Before the Doge’s palace, bright, as wide
And shining blackest gondolas could ride.