Lisa Ludden
In Venice There Are Bridges

Sediment richly flawed by time
people feet pounding paths
loose gravel stuck in shoes

pieces, parts per million
drop green river reflect blue sky
buried over each other

A little boy leans, eyes peeled to the bottom
cork coin thorn hook
over the clay wall

where are all the

Gondolas, oil lamps
manufactured man woman child organic connect
spilt wine, lovers lips

Venice, a bowl of flower tops, floating and wilting

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