In the marble halls,
echoes in the marble halls,
hands against the cool stone,
to slide along
the polished walls.
Mother’s muslin robe
is folded,
near the gilded throne.
Only the brazier’s smoke
knows
for whom the embers glow.
A silken sash,
with a torn tassel end,
binds Mother’s muslin robe,
hiding her funerary sins.
©️ Obol, 2019.
