Great Pyramid At Giza Poem by Stan Petrovich

First, I can only think
Of the work, the strain, the backs, the bricks;
But the Egyptians had good medicine,
And it kept the workers going.

Khufu's memory was completely
Looted. Strabo himself called
Attention to it,
Prior to the Arab caliph's arrival.

Where is that gold now?
On your finger,
In your teeth?
And is gold always defiled, like it seems?
The curse of the mummies
Follows us as shadows,
For nations are also built with gold;
And the dust of gold with nations.