Did the Romans really pave their roads
with books? Wrap each brick
of the Via Appia in papyri odes?
Godspeed to chariots, or such.
Now, instead, our highways are scorched asphalt –
hot words dead-snake the country,
tarred and burnt. Bitumen
rhymes with bitter.
Or was it Greeks,
using verse
to hammer closed the lids
of caskets?
(A poem in my pocket
for my cousin's funeral, but I had
the wrong day and missed it.
I am so sorry.)
This morning, my toes are grateful
for cool sand among
beach plums and
sawgrass.
At the end of the track,
gravel and sharp
stones.
Are these
words
a pebble in my shoe,
a rock in my heart?
A nail?
Or a path, a way.
For Shay’s Word Garden
qbit 
What I want to know is, who started this business with the orange barrels? I love your poem for the wind-up especially. I expect they might be any or all of those.
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I think the orange barrels and cones was the Phonecians. Needed a way to manage the cart traffic in and out of the ports.
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I especially love your closing lines – the words as a path, a way. True.
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Thank you!!
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I miss reading your work, qbit.
The closing line to your poem is the perfect touch. 🙂
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Thanks so much! I’ve missed your writing too!
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You are welcome, qbit. It’s so good and refreshing to be reading your work again. You’ve always had a way with words and bringing something delightful to the conversation.
P.S I posted something new. Hope you enjoy.
I also set my comment section to moderation. If you happen to leave a comment I will approve it. 🙂
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