Those Venetian evenings
so far away;
so cloaked in memoirs of
charm & haunt

Light straddling
the balconies,
the bridges.

Candles burning
in desolate alleyways, 
gondoliers singing the
songs of tomorrow’s sadness.

The clock glides dreamily
through the hours, marking
passage. St Mark’s

veiled by the distant
shroud of stars,
saddled with the
spell of night.

God and the altar boy
are friends;
and they weep at dawn
as birds soar
the way we were meant to,
the way we were meant to.



Providence is at work in this
wickedly beautiful world

I have divined
as much
from the piano keys—
their bottled dark tones, 

from the moths batting
against the fire—
their desires killing them

from the roses
stabbed right through
the heart—
their scarlet petals
poisoned by a silver
dagger of death

from the ambitious sprinter
mapping lines between
church towers and
astrophysical moors

from the blood grain
sowed deep within these
fields of vena cava

from Paley’s watch
laying abandoned in a wild wood;
telling time to the millionth of a second

from Fibonacci spirals;
the elegant curl of her mind, 
her hair, 
her libertarian conviction

from the choices
we think we have
and those we don’t

from the necessity of escape
of the arbitrary

Shall I go on to infinity? / 
O mortals, can’t you see?

Providence is at work in this
wickedly beautiful world

I have divined
as much.


SANJANA RAJAGOPAL is a senior at Fordham University, double-majoring in Communications and Philosophy. This fall, she will begin as a Philosophy PhD student at Fordham. Her greatest joys in life include the free will debate, Florence + the Machine, and french fries. You can find her on Instagram at @astrangecharm and on Twitter as @SanjanaWrites.