​A shower in Venice

Wash away years of dust,

Gallons of Seawater

Plastered to your skin:

Only the dark grime

Under your nails is proof

It’s there.

The water runs, and with it

Memories of the day

The gentle lull of the boat

Fingers outstretched

Bridging the gaps in generations

Languages mixed to match.

In remembrance

I close my eyes

Against the sun,

The sting of the soap.

Slowly the waves of water

Win over the other waves

The waves of heat

Breaking against

The shiny sides of a 

“Bateau de Plaisance”

Like a shirt of freshest silk

I don the silvery flush of water

Washing away

Thousands of years of crumbling dust

And gallons of seawater

That we try do drown

With a light mist of

Water from home.