Two Poems
Aurelian I
I view the Aurelian Wall as a leading protagonist on the Roman stage between the third and ninth centuries, an approach perhaps susceptible to objections about putting—forgive me—the Wall before the horse.
—Hendrik W. Dey, The Aurelian Wall and the Refashioning of Imperial Rome, AD 271-855
Say a wall and a horse do meet
on a dry day in some in-between century.
Say the horse is sweating, resplendent, embarrassed
and full of secret hope. A horse is a good
vehicle, and a wall is a good listener. Say the wall
is long. The horse
can walk alongside it. Does a horse aspire
to jump a wall taller than its own
head? A horse can be
a heart in a poem, or at least at
the heart of the poem. Its tail flicks,
brushing the wall. What is it, horse?
No one asks
the wall its business here.
Say the horse is a diversion,
a regal moving-forward machine.
Say the wall’s been watching
the tomfoolery forever, counts
one wish for every block of stone.
Sure, a wall could yearn. Say the wall
wishes it had legs.
Aurelian II
I view the Aurelian Wall
from within,
appearing briefly
on the Roman stage
[this ascent]
walking down
the longue durée
as archers’ slits
bleed strips of light
[a taxi rattles]
between the third and ninth
dreams I felt
centuries, an approach,
became perhaps susceptible
[got lost]
I found myself
giving in
to objections
catching glances, sensing
[symbolic]
warnings about putting
myself—forgive me—
forgive me, the Wall
the obstacle before the horse.