San Salvador

Chasing the shade to the holy interior

We sought Sanctuary from the day’s heat.

An arrow of sunlight, threaded with dust,

Brighter than merchant’s gold and the hearts of kings,

Pierced the high altar,

Sweet and sharp as the hidden voices

Cutting the air with crystal clarity.

Beneath the Titians

And the high-strung censer,

We shared this fleeting tenderness;

Side by side in silent witness,

A moment of forgiveness

In a small corner of Dorsoduro.

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