Marco Polo

found the old gods again
in swords and tea leaves,
robes and hanging waves.

Marco Polo crossed himself
before the emperor. He saw
the gold dust the emperor wore

for eyes as the ancient
Romans saw the vinegar
in Christ's side. Marco Polo

wrote a gospel. Every page
changed with every reading
into something three-dimensional

that filled up every blank
in the unexplored world
with a density to flatten

time. Marco Polo held
his book by the binding
and shook the pages out.

Year after year fluttered
down like snow, like birds
from the emperor's cage

so light they never opened
their wings as they rose
and fell on currents of breath.

Copyright © 2007 James Doyle All rights reserved
from Bending Under The Yellow Police Tapes
Steel Toe Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission