Venezia Santa Lucia

Lauryn Anderson 19 November 2018

Venezia Santa Lucia

 

Latin statiōn- (stem of statiō) a standing still, standing-place

 

At the departures board, bodies do not depart

But conglomerate; silhouetted shadows

Blurred into blotches of outlines: waiting,

Posing, walking, talking, watching, denying

Nothing, but stillness

 

Toes itch across sprawled steps, stone-warm;

Aeons-old rays glare with anamnesis

Over to the ancient station forgotten –

That oxidised blue dome where now

Drivel swirls in great feats’ old home.

 

The age-pocked man at the piano joins

This moving medley, moving further

Into aching restlessness – like his quartet

For which he denies applause,

And roves onto another world, Die Zeit.

 

Even water leaps, laps relentlessly

At shredding stone, peeling Byzantine

Where mussels cling — then torn in time

From algae strongholds, softened

By these gondola gold currents.

 

The evening aches forward, pressing

Patchwork joins of power- this pastiche

Of pulsing veins – moving energy, money

Elsewhere – where moments –

Sensing this city sinking,

slipping,

shifting

Slime into cracks of golden time –

May finally sit

Still.