Saturday, April 9, 2022

The Volcano

Venus cracked
     as the marbled hills shook
And her temple came down
With the legendary brothels --
The woman, how she knew
                       to disappoint.

But trade was booming, 
                      roses grew,
     a beauty almost superhuman
Every house had surrounded
                                      itself with.

How could they be blamed
Forsaking her harsh patronage,
     her lush but scanty pleasures?
Why rebuild her temple?
Rome didn't even know where they were!

It was the perfect cure 
      to not remain

Still, her furore knew 
                                 no end,
Bodies flash-fried and asphyxiated
      to better be preserved
In the kindnesses of ash.

We know these volunteers
For not having had the choice
       to be the crash-test dummies,
The final demograph 
Of the past, as one-trick pony;
Every stone-fired pizza oven 
                    bears their brand.

Vesuvius holds firm
        against the many schools
Of painters with their clouds
As they wash across its surface
        ever indented, ever firm.

It's become a thing for 
                     obliterating marks
That never seem to take --
        the horror is too strong,
The ending incomplete,
              forever unresolved.