A Roman Citizen Observes a Victory March
Our air is coarse with monuments.
paint and stone with elbows.
We seem to march upon the world
and borders seem to move as we move,
turning our thorn-stiff torsos.
The crowds that watch the march
make loudness with their feet
and the changing shapes of their mouths
while in quiet squares, clocks and fountains
turn a pointed shadow or a gleam.
Edges of coolness and gradation.
In the high and empty sky,
a silent eagle tilts our faces.
______________
Patricia Nelson