Today's poem is by Michael McLane

Imperium (for the last to leave)
       

before the barbarians knock, they allow
one weekend to burn our leaves and trash.

once spartan, now faux pas, now refugees
the mistake that sets the minotaur chasing

its own tail deep in the earth, what sacrifice
is made when the monster devours itself,

the great suck it leaves behind, oxygen
lust pulls in a fawn here, a bicycle there.

carpet may smolder for hours before
its frenzy, this place is more kind.

we take long naps on the crust, dream
of winter, the steam erasing all but this island

where children remember the ground, stomp
to see it breathe, that heat is no error

indelible, this place unlike all places
does not mask the violence beneath

our walking, on towards roads that circumvent
memory or faults, that circle the flickering

in the night—wolves and coyotes.
when a single house bursts into flames

no one left to cry out, no longer hearth
but the post and lintel of hell, its curtains melting.

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Copyright © 2023 Michael McLane All rights reserved
from Fume
GreenTower Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission