The silence is broken, a bemoaning of flowers one wilted petal There was a bronze coin in the store window, one gold ring, a silver watch, the bust of a man wearing an old hat, a painting of the old acquedotto in Piazza Signoria It’s time she did something for herself

Ten thousand now, falling faster, the second you stared, the first time she doubted the Stanton Island Ferry, homeward bound, the sea and a pale white bird. She was not happy. I knowit’s not me, only what I could have grasped if I’d set my mind to humanity instead of this secret mind talk and … Continue reading Short Poem No.17