Stepping Into The Arena At Béziers…
Rabid cats skulked
And crouched amongst shrubs,
Whilst a crone dressed in black
Pursued one, then sulked
As it withdrew, taken aback
By the threat she invoked:
Lean, wild eyed, not there to be stroked…
Ancient remains, incongruous,
Littered the dip, striated by modern paths
But the gallery, extraneous,
Reared and loomed above
The site, cheapening, mocking, contemptuous
Of its heritage, scornful and uncouth:
No awe, its spite nefarious…
Pete Ray
September 2019…
The Roman Arena in Béziers was surrounded by dull apartments, almost forming a misplaced gallery to look down upon the remains…
And cats.
And the old woman who stalked the site…
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