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?