The Emperor’s Palm

The emperor
pressed his palm
against the earth
and crushed us all
to dust.

Powdered,
wind-blown,
to the fields,
where,
anon,
the crop would grow.

Rust-brown,
our iron swords,
plowshares ignored,
sank into the earth
and became the bones
of the new ship,

Europa,

as she sailed
into the bleak unknown,
with a tattered sail
unknowingly made
from Charlemagne’s

soiled robes.


©️ 2019.

We also visited ol’ Charlemagne in Aachen. The image is a bust of extraordinary detail and craftsmanship. I have many more ‘treasure’ images to share once I return home.

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