1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14the best of all things to an end must come
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