17 Mar 2003, 8:00pm
Writing
by David


Love is a country

L’amore è un paese. Off the map.
Its rulers are invisible; children play
all hours in the gardens.
Now vacant, now thriving.
Innocence has a way of discovering itself.

The tourists are uncouth, but
they leave. The girl won’t budge.

A statue
they say.
Her playmate, the Prince,
is lost with her hair in an old mirror.

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