The Nonexistent Spaces

We were the ships, we were built, we departed
How to fill a space that has been lost, has sunk
There is a language that cannot be suppressed: may I adopt
The wind blows through you hair, columns hide the years
Nifty Matron, with sensuous hair and breast, the gondola will
The way through is the space of dogs sniffing marble
Colour is hardly a diversion here. The transparent light
The nonexistent spaces in the Arsenale! The swaying columns

Nifty Matron, with sensuous hair and breasts, the gondola will
Overturn, the water will rise, the plaster will itch
At the edges of the town. Almond eyed one, chaste as
The line of your mouth, you fill a non-existent
Void, in the head, between the eyes, while the sea scours
The stones, waits for your final dance. Tango, Maestro.