Ars Moriendi (Art Of Dying) Poem by Goddo Faggotte

A jumble up fresco,
all beasts, bosoms and cloven hooves
together in a cloudless sky,
twisting in ecstasy.
Life stuck in stillness upon an arched, stucco roof,
awkward in their beauty.
These lives, still yearning for life.

Pompeii held her own special orgy
with Vesuvius as the elevated, passionate lover.
The ash-fired, clouded sky
struck a stillness into the beloved with twisted agony,
beautiful in their awkwardness.
Their lives suddenly stilled – unfinished.

The rubble crumble of columns
litter the floor of the forum,
like the decapitated bodies left by a legion passing,
aquila raised over marbled Doric and Corinth,
veined by blood-spatter,
an awkward, shattered ugliness.
This is life stilled by the art of death.
This is the art of dying.