Missing In Venice

Such silence, heavy silence. It weighted the air, dragging it slowly down. No bird song, no engines running, no shutting shutters, shuffling shoes, no breathing, no anything. Silent, all but the foreshadowing water lapping across itself, each wave warning the next one which warned the next, which warned the next until the rippling warning reached each structure and each structure was afraid.
Ships groan. One may not notice the baritone rumble hidden under other noise but in the silence which was thrusting itself upon Venice that day, the sound reached across the territory, covering it, it's vibration left behind, the windows trembling. In the light of the day's beginning the massive threat gleamed, it's black paint made shiny by the sun, so unsuspecting and therefor not inclined to cover itself in the clouds and invite them to cry. The ship pushed forth the clear sea water. Fish of different sizes and colors swam before it and were separated as the ships point cut through them slowly, carefully, parting the sea of color into two, one on each side of itself. The fish remained docile with lazy fins and shining scales, not caring about much of anything besides the warmth of the sea they swam in.
The ship grew closer and closer to the silent city. If there were people to see, they would wonder why the ship didn't stop or why it was headed the direction it was or why there was no name on it the ships side. They would wonder if Venice would survive. Some would flee and some would stay, loyal to the city they loved.
The ship grew so close that even the water seemed to stop. The mouth of the alley the ship approached was far too small to fit anything but a motor boat. Closer and closer, so slowly, the ship came, mere feet from the first cream colored buildings obstructing its path, and in that moment the city held its breath, the water stilled and all was frozen on a precipice, waiting. Then the sound struck. A sharp sound, like wood splitting under pressure, like thunder and the walls crumbled behind the great force of the luminous ship, crumbled and fell into the water below. The ship did not stop but somehow continued, ripping the buildings apart, making its way through the narrow waterway, dominating the sleeping city. Bridges were swept aside like moss. Other boats floating on the water disappeared below the belly of the great ship. The windows shattered in their panes. Floors of wood and stone buckled and collapsed. Doors splintered apart. The floor of the sea was shaken by the straining foundations of each structure above. The ear splitting sound of the screaming city echoed across every surface and far out across the sea, touching the distant horizon in all directions.

Close

Open fingers graze the landscape of velvet
between your shoulder blades,
down the slope of your spine.
Such soft silk I have never touched.

I love the depth of each shadow on your form
and each thought and whisper held inside.

Lips parted,
a door you've opened to me,
your breath slides out, warm.
Lips parted,
I catch the next:
blissful connection,
warm.
I cannot fathom a close space without the faint beating of your heart
filling it.

My eyes were born the day they saw you.