Cosy academia

Marie de Medici letter


You take the 9.05.

across the river’s murky past


espresso clutched, again you puff

those deadly sticks.


The city breathes its history

laid out by hands whose words


you transcribe day by day

500 years of detailed text


only still to lock away

in hidden chapters in your head.


The evening’s dinner

lecture tour, those stranger’s faces


who applaud.


Safe from us the hungry hordes

of amateurs who long to see


through eyes that saw

through eyes that wept


500 hundred years of history

held captive by your PHD.

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