Hollow as a seashell <br />and as washed in light, <br />Caecelia Metella’s tomb lies open <br />to the sun, her self <br />long since departed. <br /> <br />All along the road <br />departed glories, <br />mausoleums, and Maxentius’ ruins, <br />shimmer among the tall rank grasses. <br /> <br />In the catacombs, <br />remains long moved, <br />the sleeping cells line neat <br />as cells in honeycomb, <br />sweet nurture, sweeter rest.<br /><br />Kathleen Griffin<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ad-catacumbas/
