DAVID ST. JOHN
Nero
The glint along the water of the canals
Of the few stars still visible as the clouds
Gather blackening the lagoon where the rows
Of gondolas rock side by side in the wash
Of the tide their necks crooked high
Above the narrow dock alongside Julietta's
Father's palazzo where the tiles of the windowsills
Begin to moisten with the morning dew & the lazy scarfs
Of mist twist & play along the humpbacked stone
Bridges as the cats take their turn navigating the
city
As the French boy in Julietta's bedroom turns from the window
Where he's been standing the whole while waiting to ask
What do you call the
black of those gondolas? 
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