Roman Sweat

Red light and cold clay
lasts forever
in Italian formulation
of blood empire
hewn from architectures
so precise
that its masonry built
that aqueduct in Southern France
that lasted for two thousand years
without the torn burnt fabrics
of mortar and lime.

I wonder
if we crumbled more
to crumbs of bread
in the somnambulism
of nationalism,
could we scrape from the old Forum
the tessellations
of new Demeter?

Minerva cast her too
through out the great scythes here
culling grains
for the broken months
as tasteless as a poor cat's calls.