A NEW DESCRIPTION OF THE WORLD
The weather girl warned us of the weather to come
but we could not imagine it: black crows
like emissaries of a missionary church
shaking the rain from their black hoods.
Soon the sea walls were taking their punishment
and the one road leading somewhere
was losing ground to the flood.
This was a Venice without the carnival,
a city drowned in its own bad luck.
The river was rising and took the chance
to wander where it could, places it had never been.
It was time to write a new description of the world.
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