March 2, 2013

Roman Summer by L.C. Ricardo

Heat gathers, velvet in grubby corners,
keeping sleeping stray cats company.
Sunlight sticks to cobbled stones, stones to soles.
Round rubber pops beneath mobile, iron-heavy ovens.
They excrete oily silence.
Kitchens yawn, windows pant.
Emerald garden greens curtain
flocks of pigeons – they have outlived fainter flowers.
Tiber-water meanders, mute.
Not even the bronze-browed gypsy napping
upon the ashy bridge hears its humming.
Marble domes, upturned ancient bowls,
simmer spices, India-incense; and
high reds and golds glint in chapels, enshrouded
in shadows hot as flame.
Cathedrals glow, brightening
the charred, white-bone city.
Thin bells rise in the distance.
Ding-by-dong, they break the searing seal of atmosphere
where they freeze
into pure globes, shimmering.

L.C. Ricardo is a mom and aspiring writer living in Florida.  She blogs over at Spinning Straw into Gold (  L.C. received an honorable mention in the 2013 Tuscany Prize for Catholic Fiction Collected Short Stories for her short story "The Debt," and the collection can be purchased online in a digital version here.  Hard copy publications are forthcoming.

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