Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Where would that have been? Paris? Florence? She
Cannot recall, but it happened. Are you

Sure? Not some delusion? No, it happened.
Remember it. Ah, you remember things

Half-and-half, the rest is made up quick to
Complete the picture. But he came, felt him,

Sensed his warm presence. But heart’s wants are heart’s
Delusions, the world turns on a lover’s

Kiss or none at all. Or was it Venice?
Water was involved, hands holding, wet lips

Meeting. Time passes; life comes and goes all
Too fleeting. No, I am sure it was Rome,

Some chapel, choirs singing, bells ringing.
She lies, stares and broods. Her period is

Late. No floods this month. What would the parents
Say? Have they known of your recent descent?

The men? No, I remember the bed, the
Open window at night, the pale moon seen

From where I lay. She thinks she senses the
Evolving dough of sperm and egg, the new

Life, the decay of yesterday. Where is
He now that spread and fed and sneaked away

In dead of night? She turns her head on the
Pillow, there’s a cold moon through the window.

the poem has an interesting complexity that speaks to the reality of living a life if it were chronicled for the world to read in detail.......which is why I would not want my life made into a movie......ha ha...

Thank you, saw. I like your Ezra quote from one of his Cantos.