We leave our shoes,
tiptoe over rugs in silence,
wife among women,
myself among reclining
men who read or sleep or
think or merely be.
It's cavernous, this dome,
and fully carved, the chandelier
must weigh some tons.
Some thousand marvels
yet this ease, this hanging
around in time
eye of the city
calm
unblinking
a faceted jewel
to circumflect inside
It's hard to put on
shoes again
this treading to busy streets,
vendors and vended,
horns shrieking
this calm to veiling
memory
-- David Radavich