Mâlain Diaries 14 - Mediolanum

Mâlain Diaries 14

You stripped me.

first

of

my ceilings, my

walls, the

protectors of

my herstory.

You enslaved them

   to farmers, to

incomers for theirs,

their continually nu

coming

Assault.

You let people

walk

    over me.

“Take whatever you want,”

you said,

“she doesn’t matter now.”

They took my grandmothers,

my ancestors down

from the tiles;

removed my

Juno and her Genius

   leaving soul without

peace and

sold

Sirona at a yard sale for

no more than a sack potatoes.

The teenagers came to

smoke and drink and

piss on my heart.

they drew quarters, flung limbs

into the far fields.

Then the Arch-ologists came

   to rape what was left

of Lavinia.

They scraped evidence

from walls, floors,

that once held art, conversations

   worship.

Picked up my nose, lips,

  cut ears; marked with pins;

Épingles, aiguilles, perles, fusaïoles, placages,

anything left of us

   into a box,   a closet sewn with dust.

Denigrated dishonour, no one comes

here now,

this home of mine Mediolanum.