Murano the Shark

Translucent and silent
I slide through the murky waters.
I glide over the dark sand
studded with ghost limpets.

Hauled out on a fisherman’s
hook, a prize,
I am marvelled at.
All the world comes to see

my working organs through my skin.
I am returned surprised
to the lagoon,
to continue my constant round.

I am the remnant
of seafaring merchants;
the memory of distant trades.
I am the striped patter

of mournful gondoliers.
I am the souls
of San Marco’s workmen;
their golden tessarae glint still

as the sunlight strikes me, surfacing.
I am the sighing authority
of the Doge in his palace;
all consuming and without mercy.

I am the dregs
of coffee house society,
the ashen note of the opera,
the final charge of the verdigris horses

and the winged lion’s last roar.
and preserved
I keep on my eternal vigil,
as the city teeters on the brink.