Stradun

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.

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