they say get in, get inside, acqua alta is approaching
soon the streets will turn into the canals, cobblestone swathed
by the embrace of the adriatic , get in , quickly now
i don't. i stand in the middle of an almost empty piazzetta
i have no gold ring to offer, but wonder if the lagoon
will still accept me as a bride
here are crumbling churches with gilded insides, here lie the bones of a saint
in water warped coffins, and i see masked death gliding in on a gondola
here are winged lions of stone , firmly anchored to a ship i know
is sinking , but it doesn't matter
this place will live on in brushstrokes, in notes of music, in inked words,
in reels of film
the lagoon glimmers in the moonlight like a sliver of glass
i’m looking at venice in the eye
i wait for the sea to approach . i wait for foam and brine to encase
me in a cocoon of saltwater and take me to the heart of the city
so i will never have to leave.
venice venice venice . i made references to a couple of things- gondolas, winged lions (symbol of St. Mark) and the thing about throwing a ring into the lagoon was an old tradition called marriage to the sea , carried out by the doge every year.
'acqua alta' is high tide . i feel like this is a weird place to long to visit sooo much , but oh well!