Inmost Circle
       

So Virgil took me
to the tenth prison
and there I saw myself
and Beatrice —

my guide explained:

this is the hell of spectators,
those who watch torture
and make excuses:

yet we seemed at ease,
my love and I, strolling,
raptly parsing a point of law.

The light was from childhood
as if the Arno were tucked
just behind a garden wall.

We ambled among sunflowers
and as we passed, their eyes
opened wide and followed us.

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Copyright © 2019 D. Nurkse All rights reserved
from The Manhattan Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission