Danny Gentile #9

Weatherboards losing paint

Begin the long forgetting

The rusted iron palings

On a fence partly fallen

It is not that I disagree

But agreement

Seems to have lost

Meaning for me

Each house leaves

An indent in the earth

With walls of rubble

Defining where rooms were

Though a temple

Is likely to be maintained

For sake of the spirit

Interred there still

I let the statue lie

For lack of the strength

To heft it carefully

Back to where it stood

It is an old totem

Part of a personal bestiary

with animals carved

Into bas relief questions

Will it last much longer

Than the material

On which it depends

Or do all words die

Life carries its measures

Of cold eventuality

And also the warmth

Of a seated clarity

Let the bells ring

As if it were only now

They were tasked

With an act of speaking

For even their voices

Will echo and fall

To the martyred ground

Over which they once sang

11.50am 9/8/2016