Venetian Hands By Timothy B. Dodd


dip into pockets hugging fat

thighs on tourist boats, snatch

loose locks on shop gates

— thief



hold the blowpipe to shape liquid

fire, manipulating elements, a key

from Murano lights transformation




from Conakry to Douala hold up packs

of pirated Guccis following through

dusty alleys to Piazza San Marco

— bag vendor


slide palms down the oar to push

off from docks into busy canals,

old-aged lovebirds in tow




arrange mass-produced ornaments

in the window again this morning;

wrap one in wax paper, English

—shop owner



set plates of pasta on narrow tables,

bringing more olives for a brighter

tip, this is Italian food my friends




pick and choose, seek your spouse

for a second opinion, the right piece

to carry home, credit card critical




at the top of the food chain, consumes

even church and canal — if a bargain;

cut soil, come modern commodes

—tourist #2



of the Veneti, unknown. More than

Pound, Mušič, Nono. Beyond San

Michele. In the sea. Lost. Scarred



Timothy B. Dodd is from Mink Shoals, WV.  His poetry has appeared in The Roanoke Review, Stonecoast Review, Ellipsis, Broad River Review, and elsewhere.  He is currently in the MFA program at the University of Texas El Paso.


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