|  | The Fall of Paris 
      Daybreak
 They marched us
 all day long
 through the camp
 compound, which is
 to say, we had failed
 at our appointed duties.
 To the west lay
 the smouldering city
 to the east
 the Great Sea.
 
 
 Nightfall
 
 No more marching.
 The moon hung
 in the sky
 like a communion wafer,
 as if Chagall had painted
 on a celestial palette,
 each night, the light
 tumbling down,
 through my grey window
 like so much hope
 over the broken city.
 |