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 The room fills midnight with jewesses
polished eyes in crowds dark and eager to please
voices' hum and the heavy perfume of ancient cities
combed and coming down centuries

In the marble passage of that palazzo
women walked to their death
each in a separate crossing
We will not forget their look through slotted windows
on the canals green and weary-eyed
Vye now for a doge's love
though he were not a capricious man

We are women who wear silver
ring night with silk shawls wide as prayer
Let us clasp our hands and dance the night
dark hair deep and flying
Let us pass small cakes and sweet wine among our guests
spire the sky with minarets
psalteries about the tents
like coats of all our colors

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