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The Sack of Rome

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Day spot free warm wind 
soft sway supple trees so -
wood mellow burn smell
gentle breeze crisp
cool and fragrant streams.

Amble dapple shadow stone
smooth worn feet -
tall grass green fan
luxurious under bough
bower pale place to hide.

All heat waft humid
rain handsome high hill -
ajar wood ahead door swing
men rush aghast all
dull swords swung high.

The ground seems to rumble.
A jar breaks.

White statue amid small
ripple man wades the deep -
bent tree cypress blow
up rise vacant shadow figure
mumble behind locked doors.

Sunshine inside frail echo feet
patter marble hall call -
fire burn cauldron incense
smolder rubble rock wall
peer a lone man out.

While fan gentle breeze
rain mist faces so moist -
rich smell fire roast
crisp string so sweetly so sing
hoof beats roughly rumble.

A jar breaks.

Rhythm cross sweet
bridge sacred cow cry -
white dress woman vanish
shadow noon haunt fountain
children play all alone.

A door slams. A yell.

Still scent sand remain no
song hover bygone breeze -
nap dream rich wine red
night share fire rage
through sweet gentle field.

A jar breaks. A rush.





Matthew Henningsen has published in many journals, most recently in, “The Naugatuck River Review.” He is primarily inspired by history and travel.