"Don’t laugh. Just tell me the story / again, / of the sparrows who flew from falling Rome, / their blazed wings. / How ruin nested inside each nimble throat / & made it sing"
Beloved protector of falling flowers; did anything she stood for matter in the end?
Don’t laugh. Just tell me the story / again, / of the sparrows who flew from falling Rome, / their blazed wings. / How ruin nested inside each nimble throat / & made it sing