returned to Venice recently
in the form of a tornado
wearing his yellow star
with its know thyself insignias
no one was waiting either
at the custom’s steps
or under the lion’s mane
though it was still raining
according to the stores
a godless man who loved
the men who loved the gods
a foreigner where the forms
of beauty kept their familiar names
on this island in a bottle
what could be ominous to him
what grim?
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