My feet were in the lagoon, but
my eyes looked out to sea.
I listened to the tales
of the merchants. I
could tell what port
they were from just
by looking at them.
Even at the port in Venice, I could
sense the presence of the East,
but it was insulated, hidden away,
like a bather behind the reeds.
And then a piece
of me, once lost there,
was returned.
