Poem By Allesandra Patti

We’ll never know who
the culprit was.

The tamburo
at the Palazzo Vecchio
remains mute with age.

Would Jacopo have cried
in shame while Leonardo
full of rage and grim
with purpose rushed him
through the constringent
alleyways of Firenze?

It's all lost in the sfumato now

though anonymous hate still slithers
through the world's hypocrisy.

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