comparative history

my patient temple crashed to the ground
around the time we swam at Areopolis
and further south then flew back
bloodhound sick to Athens
this before that miracle crash
and a walk into History and love
dazed with new purpose

strange how the pages turn
distance growing from my compass
influenced by whatever influence
a gap where my stone should sit
now a story has been spoken
i begin to reach for it

A.H (6th October 2020)

Another workshop poem, same as that last poem, still carrying thoughts of compasses. We’d read a poem called Moral Spontateity by Gladys Ely, which is where thoughts turned to Greece, and then to write in a similar / influenced vein.

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