Machiavelli’s muse

 

Thankful for as much warmth as darknesses afford

they sit between flickering hearth and stone walls

 

as the lady darns

Outside snow flurries sing

 

how you are hostages here

They slowly repair their knowledge

 

of the agonies and strife

joys and communion

 

as events they may stitch together from

voices in the streets or sightings of departing horses

 

Enclosed as a bottled essence

each darkness would be equal

 

were it not for such tales

informed by rags and veils

 

 

 

10/12/20