Mosaic in Pompeii
       

A misunderstanding of a fresco,
a figure with papyrus on the east wall.
Someone assumed wrong two centuries ago,
but the name remained—
the House of the Tragic Poet.

Cave Canem. Beware of the Dog
mortared into the mosaic,
a permanent warning to last centuries.
Who knew it would be millennia?
No simple sign. Was there even a dog?

Do Not Ring Bell or Knock. Baby Asleep.
would hang outside my house
long after we were grown.
It seemed to do the trick. Preserved
in memory, the image affixed,

my date at the door,
Dad calling out from the couch
through the screen to the porch—
No thank you.
We're not meeting anyone today.

Coming back from the cave of memory
to the preserved tiles of Plato's Academy,
noting his gesture at the globe,
the sundial on the column
and the transient nature of time,

but still thinking Cave Canem
and how much remains the same.
The house of the tragic poet,
and the warning at the threshold,
another piece in the mosaic.

Tweet
Copyright © 2022 Diane Thiel All rights reserved
from Asheville Poetry Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission