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Villanelle for the parisian sunset

Through the pearl cataracts of mottled panes
Under the stretched out gooseflesh of the sky
Lies a city of roofs and weather vanes.

I can see the red sunset as it stains
The lardy clouds with a scandalous dye
Through the pearl cataracts of mottled panes

Above the slabs of bleak, gray concrete lanes
On an iron shore between low and high
Lies a city of roofs and weather vanes

Blue slate shingle roads stretch in endless chains,
To converge where I stand and play God’s spy,
Through the pearl cataracts of mottled panes.

Above the tiny black specks and their strains
Where the soft clay chimneypots melt and sigh
Lies a city of roofs and weather vanes

In my room with electric veins
I push on the cornea of the eye.
Through the pearl cataracts of mottled panes
Lies a city of roofs and weather vanes.



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Claire_AThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. said...
Apr. 30, 2013 at 9:25 pm
Wonderful piece.  I want to go to France so much; this poem caught my eye as soon as I saw the title.  I love the way you connected the eye to the sunset and the world we see.  Congratulations on a beautiful poem!
 
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