“The Shuttered Palace” by Ellen Foley 1981

Now I’m a woman, I walk past your café
To the sons of Europe, I call out and say

You hear those Fiats and taxis
Blow their horns so hard
When I go out walking
Flocks of birds rise from the square
And all the seigneurs and monsieurs
Pull up to the curb


My shuttered palace lies awake from the sun
It isn’t far there, a little further
So why don’t you come?
You call out your offers to me in your mother tongue
But you don’t act so macho
When I ask you to come

 

shuttered palace