Welcome back, Insect.
A powerful piece for your return.
A very skilful revelation of the truth of the poem.
" the thorns crowned his discontent" is telling. Regards Arthur.
----- Original Message -----
From: "grasshopper" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Monday, August 26, 2002 6:33 AM
Subject: New sub: Remembering the grapes
> Remembering the grapes
>
> A big, good-looking lad,
> his arms and shoulders shaped
> by working the Umbrian soil
> when he was young, now he thinks
> of the vineyards and curses
> the day he took up the sword
> and the standard. Not that
> it's any disgrace to uphold
> the Pax Romana, but sometimes
> he misses the smell of rich
> damp soil in this parched land,
> feels weary of an alien place
> full of dark religions fermenting
> like grain under the sun, the Zealots
> and the priests all babbilng beardily,
> their eyes bulging like barrel-bungs.
> He sucks his finger thoughtfully
> running his tongue over fresh ridges
> where briars snagged his flesh.
> Tomorrow he will offer a pair
> of pure white doves to Jupiter
> and ask to be posted back to Italy.
> Who can feel at home in a land
> where the sky grows dark in the eye
> of a bright afternoon? He never wanted
> the bloody execution detail;
> the splinters were bad enough,
> but the thorns crowned his discontent.
> Leave them to it, he thinks,
> and dreams of the burst of red grapes
> in his mouth and the first draught
> of the new vintage.
>
> grasshopper
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