Florence

Painting by Abbie Thoms


FLORENCE


A modest light blue room, dark blue rafters,
Scattered saints of plasters, a picture
Of knight in armor. He holds a lantern,
Looks for cave with a girl and dragon.
Outside, Fiats roar as someone made a score
At event of sports. I was sitting
Looking at bibelots when something
like a vision happened.
The vision had not the grandeur as when Saul
Fell off a white horse,
changed his name to Paul.
But this vision probably
has had some consequences,
If not as momentous as a conversion
And the spreading of new religion.
I thought I heard a gavotte,
But then it sounded like a pavane.
It might have been because the radio was on.
I saw dust motes in a shaft of light
That came down blue through the blue window.
One mote started to dance.
I wanted to dance with her
But she had no body I could hold.
I reached out slowly with one finger
to touch the dancer,
But only saw a blue light on my extended hand.
I could not touch her,
but the mote kept dancing,
Speeding up the tempo as in Ravel's Bolero.
All of a sudden the mote stopped dancing.
When I went to see if I could find her,
I found only a pile of dust on the floor.
The first time I recalled this day in Florence,
I rushed out of the house,
Drove to the store to buy cat food.
Upon arriving at the store,
I realized I did not need any.
My shelves were stacked with cans.
I did not buy any, but went back home,
Drove around the block three times
Before I went into my empty house.


Duane Locke

Posted over on Writer's Eyes