La ragazza di Trieste

in Trieste the cartoonist
moved as if under glass
lavender beach mornings

the olive drab and manilla
crisp the slender leglet
a vase stood looking over a cliff
body head empty
a single continuous line

a girl then crossed his pupil, path
her thwarted drowning
like a still-life dredged up
shells and animals co-uttering
and sand on young skin
more than a cartoonist's pay grade
the difficult textures of erosion,
silicate ions of eros

somehow later
under finer drawings
and aqua watered silk walls
things from beligium, lourdes, salina
the elemental ornament
lay mutating named and naked
visiting quieter seas
on churned ecru sheets
dusk outside in unfurled tide
a visitation of various Goyas

no footsteps are found
through the silent tawny carpets
where the cartoonist halts
dropping the day's moist towel
his hand redolent

of ancient Rome
oblivious above the bones
of dinosaurs