Venice. Another Shakespeare town. Shares
with Denmark and Verona the Distinction of a title,
of place that draws in character and soul.
Coigns of theatre and surprise hiding dark
corners, alleys with secrets, doors that rarely
open or admit the truth – contriving scenes
of perfect unity for art, for sightlines on a stage.
So here we stop to think of who we are,
which scene we enter, which line upon our lips.
Do we leap into a boat to exit slow?
Or stand upon a bridge delivering, to rousing
clash of swords? We may wait beneath
a balcony for jealousy to come, or princess
to reveal through nimble tongue her heart.
Oh, place of missing argosies and clever girls –
of handkerchiefs and arch deceivers! Taste justice hidden
in the eaves, or carried over barely moving waters.