It rains on the roofs <br />As it rains in my poems <br />Under the thunder <br />We fit together like parts <br />Of a magic puzzle <br />Twelve winds beat the gulls from the sky <br />And tear the curtains <br />And lightning glisters <br />On your sweating breasts <br />Your face topples into dark <br />And the wind sounds like an army <br />Breaking through dry reeds <br />We spread our aching bodies in the window <br />And I can smell the odor of hay <br />In the female smell of Venice<br /><br />Kenneth Rexroth<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sottoportico-san-zaccaria/
