Mark Antony Rossi

 

This Ancient City

 

I found

a child

whose mother

had drowned

pushing her daughter

up a musty attic

in an ancient French city

under water

under attack

under the protection of God.

 

But where do you pray

when temples wash away

when the street is a cemetery

when the birdsong is a memory

of what used to be

a life of Cajun comfort.

 

You pray on your feet

and call back the creatures of the air

like a Noah in reverse

to remind them land will resurrect

from a watery grave

and make its mark again

on the dreamer

on the diviner

on the daylight reborn.

Mark Antony Rossi has poetry, fiction and creative nonfiction forthcoming in the Transnational, Ploughshares, and Anak Sastra. He writes from the Southeastern part of the United States. For more information visit the website: markantonyrossi.jigsy.com.

Poetry

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