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An apricot light beyond the open windows,
the smell of perfume, rosin, sweat.
Heels click back and forth
on a wooden floor, chairs scrape.
The swaying cello sheds notes heavy
as the drops hanging in her ears, soft
as her powdered cheek.
Marsala in a Venice glass; starched petticoats
and clever fingers, sliding curtain rings.
And after
waking to feel her breath against my skin,
her tiny movements, like a sleeping cat.
Later
outside, black water laps the landing stage,
footsteps, quiet curses, the splash of oars -
musicians going home, and she with them,
the pattering of rats behind the plaster,
a dog howls in the shadowed courtyard.
beyond the window
dawn pales like a bruise.
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