Sinking

Sinking cities don’t need our weight,

but we come.

Invading waves 94 million high,

to lean exfoliating backs against crumbling walls,

stealing pieces beneath souvenir fingers.

Abandoning maps in coral-reef streets,

more forest than city.

more ambrosial than sea.

But Venice,

even your groans are sirens.

Smacking water against rubber boots -

a broom against an intruder.

Feigned blithe of a gondolier’s song -

striped prisoners frozen in film.

Cathedral clamor of flood alarms -

your sonorous rejections.

Venice, we have come to court,

as you descend from Hera to Amphitrite.