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The Bath House
Atop a bed of plastic
In a house made of bone
I am helpless to feel Rome’s revival
Men become sheep and wolves
Crusaders line up for war
Careless toward their fellow heretic
Houses burn
Stone pillars rise from foundations
All as the sands of time bury the path forward
Yet even as they do, water still runs in the bath house
Copyright ©
Talia Benson
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