FAR FROM ROME by Vahni Capildeo

The blue dusk settles at a rate,

and fields can be forgotten

as they are; as-they-were appear

uppermost, lidded, swept smooth;

beneath, left still, kiln-fired

vessels belonging to him,

pleasing to his strong, torn hands –

so very much not in Rome,

this redeployed general.

The sea mixed in your eyes,

arrived at cruel decisions

yet stalling execution.

I would have sworn to die for you

sooner than try to live with you.

The sea swarms in my ears.

I sift your breath through mine.

A modern probe might take me

for less-than-human remains,

for nail-seed dirt and cumin.

I wouldn’t mind; being her,

and yours.

            But not in this life –

the intolerable one

which, when the blue dusk scratches,

lends it my eyes. To discern,

alone, your life, indicts me.

Such knowledge a reburial.

Turn me to copper, one of you

gods he only temporized with:

melt me down then score me

the music for last things.