As the Last Stone Fell
Agony rose from the oozing asphalt
passers-by froze at the foot of the colossus
so a tear could freely find a way to a cry.
The heavens turned a pale orange in a shy dusk
shaken by the groans of ancient saunterers
pleading for a better morrow in the fresh ruins.
I too took a moment to ponder the miracle
in a flash, centuries came crashing into
a death more brutal than of civilizations.
It seems the world watched the incident
moved by chagrin unfelt since oceans away
that infamous day in September another cathedral fell.
But I dared ask as I saw the kneeling crowd
what it was so they mourned in the solid rock
as the last stone fell in acrid laughter.
Fabrice Poussin teaches French and English at Shorter University. Author of novels and poetry, his work has appeared in Kestrel, Symposium, The Chimes, and many other magazines. His photography has been published in The Front Porch Review, the San Pedro River Review as well as other publications.