At the flower market
I found spice, holy water,
cobblestoned obsidian dreams,
but no flowers.
The blustery Tuscany day
showed me its underlying graffiti,
incantations of poetica esoterica,
and yet another way
to excavate the mystery.
Nostalgic Roman nights,
Spanish palabras, Sicilian incantations
of idyllic panoramas:
promises enough to purchase the moon.
Such a foolish sacrifice
to fresco up for portfolios
in sanctuaries precious and profane.
Alicia Patti
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/at-the-flower-market/
