Le Luce

by Peter Layton

The streetlights
Intermix with the trees outside.
Dopplers of mist,

Could almost be an impressionistic painting
If their beautiful creators were yet alive.
But their bones and ash, their atoms,

Break hue above the night mingled dust.
Of pushed rust and smoke.
The cause and effect and the machinations  
following the flight of art tools.
Stippling into the pretty pigment inks&paints.
Broad avenue ladies, men who know they are about to die,
The stripped bare landscape, drawn charcoal cities.
And the hoary lists of ghost illuminations
Of the painted-in-their-metal-parts
Magical lanterns.

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