The Bedbound Tempo Poem by Evgeniy Filimonov

On tempest night
Or brighter evening,
I assailed your fundaments
In a mansio on the road out of Rome
Our Rome, the south one
Illumination strained through canvas
Pouring into us
as though we were teacups
A matching pair thereof
No lull heretofore
But now, a wink’s trice
For some momentary respite
Your gasps and my uttering
A ritual, one no longer esoteric
To either
This siege, recall, has no respite
Your ramparts,
So fruitfully borne
Of derision,
Or exultation
In another light,
You,
So undone and wanly
And—
You grasp and I stutter
Oh, let's repeat this one