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Monday 25 March 2013


I remember Venice:
February froze
under summer skies.

Old buildings, honey mellow,
peered, like Narcissus,
into the Grand Canal.

Carnevale crowds thronged.
In St Mark’s Square
a monstrous screen blasted out Queen.

whose gorgeous costumes
and bejewelled masks,
concealed all flesh -
more mannequin than man.

Impossible to tell
saint from psychopath.

© Gill Dunstan
All rights reserved

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