Salim Gold

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Rome Remembered

Our Rome was two beds—the Coliseum

In miniature and ruined afresh.

I wanted Punt e Mes—no half measures,

And no quarter in bed, but hindquarters.

Beside the Spanish Steps, we saw Keats’s bed

That saw no fucking, and Shelley’s volumes

That are all about that, and so we pressed

Our sheets much like Shelley’s and unlike Keats’s.

Our loving wasn’t just good, but gaudy—

Bawdy as we like it, bodily,

Until you were dizzy and I was drunk.

We eyed ruins and spied where the Pope prays.

August is hellish, so we ate gelato.

But all was molten as we melted.

 

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