Fly Sisters fly, into the night-
Seek the signs in pale fracted light!
(Lamentations arrive from Rome
Though not the home of our Juvenal, no -)
A pale imitation with paler
Inhabitants still – a bitter
Draught cupped by seven bitter hills;
Seek its broad streets-
Taste its grand avenues soured-
Its ancient clock tower tolling the hours-
Fly Sisters, for all roads lead to Rome,
And on the morrow, so shall we mourn.
Copyright 2017 Rosalind Harbin