Her Velvet Walk Poem by Joseph Narusiewicz

Words burn like fires from Troy
Pearls from the dying myths
Some fear what then have become
Rodin with hands that touch Michelangelo
She draws for the left bank
Seines flows like Chopin’s piano
Picasso walks under halos
Love is the only moral

Freedom, equality, fraternity
Notre Dam like Emperor Napoleon
Tyranny in the soul is hard to control
The system is congenital
She knows what men like

Draperies as cruel as a whip
Vain damsel of the Mediterranean
Roman grapes like violet slaves
Balance like a Corinthian mathematician
Architects of Ian Rand
Great men ruling the plebeians
We are the children of the barbarians
Prodigy of peacock feathers
Identity of the young corpse
The slave with slaves
The poor working against the poor
Under the sandals of Caesar

Cathedrals of gold with windows of beryl
Everyone in styles of the dead
Some are ghosts not quite gone
Symbols of the phallus gods
Lights brighter than heaven
Hour of glitter as old as Persia
She walks darker than a vampire
I have fallen in love with a spell
A myth that sailed the silver sea
She tells me of silk stockings
She walks like the treasures of Venus
She talks of paintings of Florence
Her Italian heels as elegant as a Mistress

Epochs and ruins in her velvet walk