Of Amman

        There's an old house in the old city of Amman.
        An old house with a carved stone balcony.
        
        I noticed it-
        an unexpected flash
        a beacon above me
        bright with noon light caught
        by its limestone exterior.
        
        Up on a sharp hillside,
        precipitously wedged
        in time and place.
        
        A simple shape, the only clue
        to it's archaic heritage
        is the carved stone balcony
        a balustrade (often copied)
        that opens out    into carefully constructed stairs.                
        
        Steps systematically notched down the steep hillside.
        Built out of the rock itself, it seems...
        I have no sense of separate foundation,
        no sense of where brick might begin.
        It is as if eons of rain have washed away stone
        in rhythmic patterns, like the snowflake,
        to create the arabesque of the balcony.

        The house, the balustrade,
        and the steps so carefully sculpted
        systematically notched down
        the steep stony hillside-
        A flight methodically
        advancing that
        suddenly
        sharply     
                
                             erodes into air.

 

 

 

poem copyright ©2000 Anne Selden Annab