ONCE, IN RAVENNA.(Poem)

 
   We walked on the inside rim 
   of a crypt, just above the floor. 
   Its church had sunk into time 
   or perhaps the nearby sea 
   and land rose on all sides 
   while it slept. Thin columns soared 
   holding back its roof (and its church) 
   with upraised arms of chiselled 
   arches, where shadows rustled 
   like a grove of palms. The ledge 
   where we stood had once been a seat 
   for those from above, who'd descend 
   to stare at the floor and forget 
   the mosaic saints thronging upstairs, 
   with the bright air of paradise 
   around them, gazing with slow eyes. 
   Had others ...