Tosca
A poem
We were hoping
you might think
things through,
try to get over it.
No matter your
beloved Cavaradossi
lies executed
at your feet,
Liberty is in the air,
Art will prevail and
you, luscious diva,
can love again.
Floria, stop! Let
fly your faith to
unfetter hope. Just
this time, please —
please don’t jump. Fling
that nasty Spoletta
off the parapet instead.
Capisce?