At Tel Nimrun a hoard of coins
told a story of its rise, and how
the aspirations of those Roman Kings
built high walls, and stretched their arms
outwards to that veiled and misty East.
Such is the way of Empire.
Like a tide
it hungrily covers the beach
with its slick molecular foam.
But its retreat
leaves a smell of rot
and layer after layer of fulsome debris,
Only occasionally do you see
the glitter of a noble face
with its surrounding panegyric to forgotten gods:
a heart-pounding find; and you
are at one
with what was once a glorious feast.