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).