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”.)