They line the bridge of angels, <br />line the streets, <br />sell golly-woggles by the Trevi, <br />fake designer bags on mats <br />at every corner. <br /> <br />Pomegranate-glossy, <br />blue- black polished <br />by the Afric sun, <br />cheerful and helpful, <br />remnants of Roman empire <br />they look in place. <br /> <br />Surely some distant Nubian thought <br />the Roman market lived to buy his wares, <br />packed up the Indian spice, <br />unicorn’s twisted horn <br />from Mountains of the Moon, <br />and sub-Saharan gold, <br />then squatted regally beside <br />the Saepta Julia, <br />selling off his dreams.<br /><br />Kathleen Griffin<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/africana-res/
