After Ungaretti

Maybe Rises

There is the haze that erases us

A river maybe rises up here

I listen to the song of the sirens
of the lake where the city was

G. Ungaretti

There is a lake, there is a city
and the city was her universe.
The lake wasn’t always a lake;
at times, it was a
green patch of grass.
She wouldn’t have known.
But the city is a city
as only a city can be.
The streets spiral out
galaxies and systems without stars.
She stares unto the river
of people, running through, flowing freely
onto the patch of grass
which at times is a lake.
She can’t see the crowd
for the people.
But she thinks she can hear
a song from the lake,
and the song flows back
from the lake to the city
sounding its sirens
as it runs on its path.
There was a lake
there was a city
and the universe
was hers.

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