Reflections Into Antiquity
“Hoc est quod Isidorus”, she said,
As I ate Swiss cheese
Wrapped in a starch fold,
While blatantly returning a nod.
Never grace my table
With your impurity.
Is it finished?
Indeed!
Something supercilious waxes the eye,
and you beaming go.
I stay for the gladiator match.
But all around I see hordes.
She said there was a transcript in the mail.
But I laid down my life,
And the desert sands
Covered me like a stinging blanket.
Ode to the lost oblivion,
Sung well on a star-stretched night,
Hovering over my soul like a luna moth.
Isidore, never cover my pity.
(Isidore: “The last scholar of the ancient world”.)
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