Modern Thought

Contemplating Those Barbarians At The Gate

 

Not The Huns

                 but The Uns
have burst through the bronze doors
of The Empire. The city sprawling

with Face-tious  whim. Friend then unfriend,
like then unlike,  tag then untag – et
ce  tera,   et  ce  tera.                                  

The Latin phrase

scattered and mumbling in chunks of marble.
Its syllabic frieze –
                         left shattered by the fray.

And even more un

redeemable:
                       the old ways
                       of telling time and story,
                       developing photo or thought.

And then comes the woman

on the corner – a lit professor
some say (both cigarettes and books)

who doesn’t own

                      a tablet or cell. Un
fathomable!

She talks on a landline, listens

to Maria Callas spin
Bel Canto on an old
phonograph , (all cherry wood)

and jots  things down

with  pen or pencil.  Her handwriting

a map of script.
All routes leading back
to Rome.
              A classic mind
in pristine condition –
                     unswayed.