WRITTEN ON A BIG CHEAP POSTCARD FROM VERONA
Here they are on the balcony ,
Garish , burned harsh into color.
In the city of Pisanello and Stefano ,
Who lightly touched the Madonna's hair into wings ,
I can buy this romantical junk for fifty lire
And send vulgarity home . Romeo, Giulietta,
How do you survive? Not even Shakespeare
Could kill you once and for all , lavishing
So much clear genius on his fierce cold play:
First his thugs on the streets, held back
From cutting each other's throats only
By threats of a flat thwack on the skull ;
Then families hating each other,
The trysts after dark ,
One pointless murder after another,
The questionable marriage the world
Would have hushed up and broken anyway,
And the absolutely final death, ridiculous,
Brutal , a cheap loss, a death cruel
And srupid as yours or mine .
Yet not even Shakespeare could kill them
Once and for all . If you don't believe me ,
Just mention the names to anyone ,
A stranger on the street : Romeo , Juliet .
And all that the stranger will remember
Is a radiance in the dusk ,
A light wing fluttering in a vine ,
Hands shocked by touching,
Strange and forbidden ,
A bomb, and no chance
To live long.
