Venice

A click of window glass had roused me

Out of my sleep at early dawn.

Beneath me Venice swam in water;

A sodden pretzel made of stone.

I was all quiet now; however,

While still asleep, I heard a cry -

And like a sign that had been silenced

It still disturbed the morning sky.

It hung - a trident of the Scorpion -

Above the sleeping mandolins

And had been uttered by an angry

Insulted woman's voice, maybe.

Now it was silent. To the handle

Its fork was stuck in morning haze.

The Grand Canal, obliquely grinning

Kept looking back - a runaway

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Reality was born of dream-shreds

Far off, among the hired boats.

Like a Venetian woman, Venice

Dived from the bank to glide afloat.