Equinox in the U.S., deep and bold,
casts the city as new Rome
and Vatican on overseas hills,
its streets traced
in Phoenician crimson,
where Apollo’s sun ignites
runners in Nike shorts
or Under Armour tanks,
men and women arching
in prayer, their bare arms
a choir of living temples.
Equinox, growing still,
gilds this urban realm
with blond sunset light,
a union of breath and touch—
man’s, woman’s—crafted
by Adonis’ night, a design
eternal, vivid, free.
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