a year is not enough / to forget you –
a single year without mourning / properly
acknowledged, in public;
when five hundred years / have changed little, and slowly,
although everything / that can be understood
is different now from then / in this perfect city state
of cream smooth limestone / enriched by Libertas;
the preserved renaissance city / of sinuous ambassadors
whose arsenal now serves / as one of many grand cafes,
the pearl lodged in a hinterland / of implacable hatreds
that flared / as trade and prosperity waned;
I will not forget you / but mourning is over,
in coffees and crowds / and the sweltering heat
of July / on Stradun.