The main piazza in Perugia contains a fountain
that will outlive all of us, layers of legends
wearing water like shimmers of silk. Students
ignore it with rustic indifference, huddling
outside slips of stores over paper-wrapped pizza.
I stopped every night and morning, on my way to
or from some smaller Umbrian town, to see
if she had changed. When you know your time
is limited, you pay attention. You cannot hold back
the hours but you can run your fingers through them,
letting the cold flow chill your hand and hoping
for a scar to wear memory in skin.
No comments:
Post a Comment