Even Virgil recalled
how they were adorned
with olive and vine
and, still like Vesuvius’ slopes
ending in Pompeii’s fascia flutes,
the bodies too were marble-hedged
against mournful cypresses
and blessed parasol pines.
Just as the question
which didn’t need to be asked
but always meant
both sank and sang
its over-again line:
“O dear lad, how many grapes
could you find on us
no one’s ever known?”
making kantharos and cantos
afloat as many and still all one—
as when Vesuvius and Mount Somma
had also been capped as one—
like all such pagan beauty
along with Bacco
and that agatho-daimonic snake
before the shock of their eruption.
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