The Sack of Rome

Deep sienna pillars

marbled, mottled, polished smooth

uphold a vault of translucent green jade

Aisles dappled with green gold,

vault so high the moon glides between the eaves

on his way to morning

But,

like so many temples,

built on the blackened foundations

of a shrine more ancient still

Idols of the old religion ground down,

mortar and pestle,

and mixed into the glaze of a newly-fired pot

Here and there,

in places,

the architect declined

to clear away the detritus of iconoclasm—

mismatched cornices of ancient colonnades

incorporated into the overall edifice

The bases don’t quite fit,

Running mortar applied much too liberally,

setting in tendrils trailing

to the floor

But seeming haphazardness

belies a blueprint more meticulous.

August 2010