Rome At Night

Flights of fancy...


I was
climbing stairs
in a yellow dress,
a crown on my head,
and red roses
that dripped and splashed
with the sound of bells.
Ambient light
turned out to be
a sky of fire and brimstone
as the topless towers burned
and the stars winked out,
one by one.
Beauty was smeared
with ashes
and every pleading face
concealed a knife.
We were poised
on the brink of greatness,
speaking of achievement
and progress,
ignoring history's urgent warning
until Nature disgorged us
once more.
Flower child,
your words went unheeded,
condemned,
even as we damned ourselves.