Armageddon
written by: Lori Marchesin
Everywhere, the smoking ruins of my city. There is still beauty along the river where stubborn daisies dot the clods of a tired green. The waters flow with rustles that lap the corpses of fish. Often, the thud of corpses. Here are the mass graves. White tombstones, reminders of charred humanity. They are the new gardens of Armageddon, earth and ashes, stones like hands raised in extreme greeting. In the crater of the square, the skeleton of the basilica: the tip of the bell tower and silent bells, clouds of red dust, and the acrid smell of cordite. Human ferocity is the color of pitch and the nauseating smell of putrefaction. A distant past endures in this corner of memory: the pavement of a Roman Domus; the multicolored tiles with marble inserts still resonate with messages of grandeur. Echo of distant footsteps. Screams of terror. The deafening roar of engines, grey silhouettes cut through the sky spewing bombs.
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