paul & leo

Chipped from marble
they speak to Attilla of Rome in a sack
the light, the way
the sky, and they pray
for the solace of more time.

scratched relief,
when the column retreats in laughter
and memory is a lion roaring to the tax collector
take me
take mine
you'll see this time i'll do better
be better

the dark, the bones
the smoothed white stones
home for his solace for all time.

etched memories,
in the column's retreating
through centuries as the voice of old Leo roaring
is forgotten by the apostle Paul

take him
take them
you'll see -- again
they are nothing better

nothing better
not at all.