Songs from the Descent

Barricade the door to all the decades doused in flame.
Gather all the exiles from war’s path.
Defer the grand new plague arising.
Plastic are our idols,
and oil-soaked our praise.
Here, drowned, doomed Atlantis,
here a monument of bone.
Immolate the past’s old modes, ages lost to dreams.
Encase all the shrines in glass, silver rivets on the seams.
Concrete are our new gods,
and money-smeared our songs.
Here, arches of tumbled Rome,
here echoes in great marble halls.

Chani Zwibel is a graduate of Agnes Scott College, a poet, wife and dog-mom who was born and raised in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, but now dwells in Marietta, Georgia. She enjoys writing poetry after nature walks and daydreaming. Read other articles by Chani.