Teatro Massimo This opera house a hive Hanging off the high branch Of Palermo’s main street The boxes cells drones built Dark and hexagonal Brimming with the honey Of all these lips and eyes The great singer the queen Overfed to fatness She who all this is for Hits a note that seems like It might shatter the glass Lamp fixtures but doesn’t Just like that it’s over Becalmed as if by smoke They float out of the hive To visit the flowers Of the open cafes
Love the imagery.