Rome in a Day

 Rome in a Day

Rome sits on its seven haunches

And the pines, with fountains in their branches,

Old road markers in the Appian sun,

Are stolid, green and well run.

A conservative morning begins with dawn

And makes its logical way as a pawn

Is moved one square at a time

To Noon. It seems all right, but I’m

Conscious of a skip in my heartbeat,

And the day pops like corn in the heat

Of a sudden three o’clock. The wrench

Of time ticks in my ears. I hunch

My watch into a shadow to hide

It’s face from the white glare. Inside,

The gold hands turn green and catch

On the number six. I light a match

To see if they will stick there

As the fountains, with pines in their sprays, share

Their fate, dwindle and dry in the light

And Rome gets marching into the night.

Jack Wilson