b.z. niditch | l'orfeo


When I dream
of L’orfeo at la Scala
with its polyphony,
wanting to be
with Maenads
Nymphs or Bacchantes
with divine fury,
or play a mad solo
in the chorus
for Euridice and Apollo
at love’s journey
in farce and force,
awaiting a recital of violin
of Vivaldi in Milan
to accompany me
away from any bourse
in the underworld’s city,
here under the chandelier
I read Virgil’s Georgics
and Metamorphoses
ending with a moresca
pretending to be
with kicks and kisses
La Scala’s court jester.

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