discarded like amphorae in a Roman villa
on the shores of Herculaneum before the catastrophe preserved them in rivers of grey smoke
their contents of red wine evaporated by nature’s pent up anger
grey rains the sound of falling flakes of swirling snow
a whisper
a suffocation
a nobleman his consort his wife his servant stilled in caskets of clay
their images imprinted on walls with strokes of faded red and curls of hair
a pensive young woman holds a stylus before engraving her thoughts on a tablet
they woke on the last dawn of chaos
Flynnpoetry 