|A random Happening-by
||[Jul. 27th, 2005|10:07 am]
(for the jewels of Baghdad)
The jewelled veils no longer lift
From faces touched with golden dust,
Blue-tinted eyes behind cool silk;
Bright charms and river-silver beads
Are now dull, crumbling flakes of paint
That stain the cracked tiles at our feet.
Wet lips and tongue that tasted drops
Of ancient water from deep wells
Are sterile now in kiln-hot sand,
Torn by spearhead strike and slash
And smothered in Mars' orange cloak.
But still we dance, as all around us,
Stumps of palace walls like teeth
Cracked and worn to sandy gums
Faceless soldiers fired in clay
Shake their ancient dusty arms
The rumble of gunmetal drums
Provides a rhythm for our steps
While titans grapple in heavy mail
And trample the dirt outside our gates.
T C B, 2005.