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Tuesday 9 May 2017

Walking At Ephesus

Walking at Ephesus

It may be a simple effect of light, of the whiteness of rays
of the shimmering blinding sunshine flickering between columns
glittering particle sparkles in the crystalline texture of marble
but these careless tumbled liths appear restless, uneasy
heavy and broken, a jumbled jigsaw among the stunted grass
poking through rough gravel, rising up, re-assembling
resolving into many-godded  temples, triumphal arches, fountains, houses,
palaces, tombs and theatres, gateway carvings still fresh
features crisp and sharp, markings new-minted clear
no longer rough abandoned Roman ruins, nor the broken back of Byzantium
but a living space, a breathing place, where ghosts may freely roam

The death-heat of Anatolia, barely relieved by the coolness of water
or by fountains plashing into placid pools and baths
and the leafy colonnaded avenue of a tree-shaded Arcadian Way
its side-street walkways busy with the simple sound of feet, sandal-clad
people about their business, voices of slaves and masters
traders in the marketplace, and the client-busy brothel
clients inspecting the flesh on offer
the girls alert for someone new, perhaps an interesting stranger
a darkened sailor from the harbour-side
climbing the shining hill, far up into the heaving city


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