A marble Aphrodite, her serene face
turned on the side above a bare bosom;
a fair Roman copy of a Hellenistic bronze
beauty; yet below, under the navel,
all is missing, just torn stone and then
emptiness that shocks, evoking a broken
human body; a broken body emerging
from under the rubble of a bombed
home, desperate hands digging, revealing
a head and a torso, driven by a burning
hope of saving them, unmoving as they
are, and then, pulling, they rise like this,
mere third of a body, then a bloody mess,
and rest missing. You almost feel a need
to vomit, bile rising to your throat, seeing
this goddess of love and sex, ravaged
like fragile human flesh each day
and night, two hundred days.
28.04.2024
#Poem Poem #Poems Poems #Poetry Poetry #Verse Verse
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