Grand Canal We tour the remnants, skirt the debris of petrified piles: oak and larch dislodged from centuries-old beds of clay. Unmoored from silt and soil, they sweep foundation, pit and spall marble, tear stucco, crumble wall. What’s left of palaces lining the edges here, where cherubs ornamented ceilings and gold clocks kept time? Tide pays no homage to gilt furniture, fine fabric, stone-carved lions. It respects no threshold, plunders all.
—Submitted on 09/25/2022
Poems by Anne Kenny have appeared in Equinox, South, Blue Dog Australian Poetry, Contemporary Haibun Online, and other journals. Along with co-authors Judith Dimond, Nicky Gould, Frances Knight, Gillian Moyes, Lyn White, and Vicky Wilson, Kenny’s work appears in Mirror Writing: An Anthology of Poetry by Common Room Poets (Categorical Books, 2009).
Editor’s Note: The series title Flush Left refers to the fact that, due to our limited WordPress skills, we are only considering poems that are flush left.