My Lares are Lorazepam and guilt,
my Cicero is Amy Vanderbilt,
but there’s no Seneca to set me free
from Greco-Roman grandiosity.
The vestal glazes virgins in the worn
and vacant virtues better vessels scorn;
the temple shields beneath its Roman eaves
the god in whom no Roman still believes.
I crave the greedy daring-do of Greece
(until it falls on me to play police),
and wonder how my Mycenaean climb
descended to a Roman end-of-time.
I ask my husband would it not be best
to split domestic empire east from west?
Decline is dull, but Fall is action-packed:
the Better Homes & Gardens end up sacked.
|Copyright © 2016 by Eric Meub |
Eric Meub, architect, lives and practices in Pasadena. He is the adopted brother of the artist, Susan C. Price. They respect, in their different ways, the line.