. Via Appia Beneath the pines of Rome, the wrinkled sibyl will croak your future for eleven cents, and with her finger in the dust will scribble predictions of uncertain consequence. But go near, fix your eyes on her immense eyes, clear blue like the Roman sky but colder: you’ll see yourself reflected, decades older. . . St. Cecilia of Maderno The music in the marble no one hears, but crumpled there you catch the minor key of wedding waltzes, while your neck drips tears like pearls your eager husband carelessly unfastened, as you begged him not to be like other men, but with you fall instead into the love that made you lose your head. . . Daphne In order to confess my faithlessness I grew her back from seed. Her limbs got knotted into her roots, alas, and then a mess of flowers filled her ears and mouth, and rotted, although I drained the soil and repotted. At last she woke; I said my piece, and she looked up and shook her leaves, forgiving me. . . Luca D’Anselmi teaches Latin and Greek. He is currently on sabbatical at the Augustinian Patristic Institute.