Valerie Bence
1
On Mondays and Fridays we would travel back to Egypt, Greece and Rome
to Mesopotamia’s cradle of civilisation,
wander the fertile crescents fields of early wheat
and reeds grown for papyrus
or sink into inking-in Greek columns, imbibing their subtle differences;
Ionic, Doric, Corinthian,
you never know when that will come in handy…..
all this in books, so it must be true.
I scuff my unfashionable shoes
while swinging on a chair and hide myself in Babylon
looking for the Hanging Gardens.
I once spent a whole holiday, arms on the edge of a pool
gazing at Ithaca
only to discover on the last day
that it was on the other side of the island
and couldn’t be seen at all.
And now I know the Hanging Gardens weren’t built in Babylon
but in Ninevah
2
Marco Polo first named it Elephant Bird,
‘which feedeth its young on elephants’ held fast in gigantic talons,
Sinbad first thought it a cloud, come over the sun……called it Roc.
But the only possibility could not fly, was no hunter of elephants,
was a vegetarian, thick-necked bird
robust, cumbersome like a feathered tank
living one hundred years or more.
So, while no creature could lay this wondrous egg
it would be no surprise if one by one
this speckled mix of ready-mapped feathers
would take to the sky
like hummingbirds from their glass dome
and fly……….