Declivity

He spoke a peculiar dialect.
The ruined monastery
was now his farm.
Cowshit filled the nave.

Sound of stone
I thought he said
falling through air,
falling through the centre of a well.

Then
I wasn't sure what he'd said.
Frescoes, devils-full of naked flesh,
women baring breasts.

A well-centred stone
falling through air,
falling through the centre of sound.

 

Georgia in the 11th Century

I

Your name for it is 'pudze'
a plot of land, fields,
a sodden marsh.
Forests owned by all.

Beneath the earthen roof,
your several rooms.
The sting of pig-piss
fizzing in the dark.

II

Arab geographers
wrote of orchards,
of turnips
heaped in cities,

hearsay of a mill
on the Mtkvari river.

Copyright © George Messo, 2003