This one was just published online!
https://www.poetrydistillery.com/poems/2023/3/19/fresco
she called out for father
but it was mother who came.
the walls of the city had been
painted blood red.
scenes of destruction were everywhere,
and families, even armies, indulging
their last supper, a field strewn
with wine goblets, plates broken,
bones of boar and quail.
(this was before they invented perspective)
lastly a vision:
a dark coiling corridor
and a single atrium,
splattered in
light.
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