Gothic cacophony
the vying spires of Ghent
mottled black and grey
gnarled and spiked as lizards tails
weave the woolly cumulus
of Delft-blue skies brushed
by Vermeer and Van Eyck
like a cooling breeze from historyGhent-3
a single crow caws across
the red clay rooftops
the golden ships on every dome
this old town once lord over Europe
the bells ring boom and bust
send not for whom
it falleth as the gentle rain
the enduring memory
of white doves and geese
in the market cages flapping
against the steely good manners
of Belgians. A truck full of
dead immigrants spills
across the newspapers
like black coffee the morning after
so much meat to be had
in this town but not
a drop of milk.


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