Slow-drifting waves of hours accumulate
Like acqua alta’s rise, from dawn to late
They surge by light of steady-glowing lamps
Rousing shadowed streets and drowsy ramps.
Guardians of the gondolas’ tethered flocks
In the fold of night’s fast-anchored docks
Which underpin the city’s staked pontoon
And dream amidst the swell of its lagoon.
So dawn’s ripples spread their stippled light
On ochre palace walls; so ends Venetian night.
As shuttered windows blank encroaching day
They stare through slitted lids in stark dismay
At floating tourist-floods who peer and point
And put their gilded noses out of joint;
Each is a jaded doge, whose ebbing pride
Cannot repel the onslaught of time’s tide.
About the Poet
Kate Meyer-Currey was born in 1969 and moved to Devon in 1973. A varied career in frontline settings has fuelled her interest in gritty urbanism, contrasted with a rural upbringing. Her ADHD also instills a sense of ‘other’ in her life and writing. County Lines (Dancing Girl Press, forthcoming 2021).
For the first time in nearly five years, Vita Brevis is closed for submission. Read the full story here.
Vita Brevis Press. 