On reflection, I imagined Him as a dapper old gent
Poised elegantly with a brass-tipped ebony cane,
Pausing to contemplate another jewel as He went
Over His well-trod itineraries again,
Those serpentine roads through the city’s art and past
That He revealed in the opus ‘Venice and its Lagoon.’
And who the hell is ‘He’? — Lorenzetti, the mast-
er-guide of my purgatory there. Discovering the boon
Of that book half-redeemed me: it gave
Me a world, a personal map, an articulate love.
And so, mirroring this, I returned with Her
(With you) to look in the back-streets for a brave
Way forward; and found one — thanks be to heaven above —
Confronting the joys that will be with those that were.
Poised elegantly with a brass-tipped ebony cane,
Pausing to contemplate another jewel as He went
Over His well-trod itineraries again,
Those serpentine roads through the city’s art and past
That He revealed in the opus ‘Venice and its Lagoon.’
And who the hell is ‘He’? — Lorenzetti, the mast-
er-guide of my purgatory there. Discovering the boon
Of that book half-redeemed me: it gave
Me a world, a personal map, an articulate love.
And so, mirroring this, I returned with Her
(With you) to look in the back-streets for a brave
Way forward; and found one — thanks be to heaven above —
Confronting the joys that will be with those that were.
(1992)
