I
dream of Corinth
last
night, Corinth
of
the Corinthians, its
retired
soldiers telling
war
stories, its temples
marbled
and majestic,
streets
filled with noise,
smells,
voices of an empire
shouting
to be heard,
rich
men preparing to feast,
poor
men begging in the street,
freedmen
watching the backs,
slaves
giving the appearance
of
not caring and impassive,
a
middle-aged tentmaker
writing
letters.
Photograph: Ruins of the Temple of
Apollo at Corinth.
