Shallow Water by Dylan Robinson

So aptly named,

this bridge of sighs.


Dozens of denizens

meander through;

prozac, pollution,

this goddamned wine.


These fucking Gondoliers.


Twenty years spent

earning an oar,

just to force-feed



Waves mock

blackening stone

while sunshine warms

this sewage street.


Some find romance

on this path.

I find faux Kodak cameras

and echoes of “cheese.”


I wanted Venice

to be a lie.


But the commercials were right.


I need you here,

to take the bite

from my wine.

Categories: Issue 2 - Spring 2012, Periodicals, Poetry | Tags: | Leave a comment

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