April 15

Read C’s poem, and watch the ashes flutter away…

OPTIONAL POETRY

They told me how one architect
cast himself as St Thomas

to look out over
the rooftops

in perpetuity–
a sentinel of the Île,

to dawns, the rains,
those low gold winter sunsets,

the Seine grown vein-dark
by evening, bridge spans

reflected to form
perfect spheres of sky–

transient beauty,
it was a later addition,

the apostles on the spire,
nothing lasts forever

as it stands
and nothing stands forever

but they took down
those statues

a few days ago
for what little that is worth

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