Minerva Camena (Minerva Poetry)

Aurora, et Minerva murmura ab fluminiripam.
Illa vigilans scroae hyacinthinum caligo trahe stagnum,
expedata reliquiarum mersum orbis in sua vigilent:
fulgori piscis-cauda squamas, lacerique folia delectii littera.
in inflatum moli plasticum pera.

Suscipit fragmini singula et inscribunt eis in ea librum
rerum tulit historiae ab delecti loculos
temporis. Habet uterque argumentem vacui: ustem penna; inanem
cochlea concha. membrum tortosque arboris. singulis canit
cum sua confractum tibians, sua fractura camena.


Quando rivulum ubi es butina et occursum rivangunt sursum
aurorae tributum, Minervae est in extremis, expectans evellere
hi fragmentorum perplexis memorias ab alto.
Illa miratur singula scientifica inventio inveni quasi noctem
mordent descenderat in die, et fractum sonorum tempus itinera
singula reliquia facit in somnum.

Translatio:

Dawn, and Minerva murmurs from the riverbank.

She's watching scrolls of blue mist drag the lake,

unfurling remnants of a drowned world in its wake:

a glint of fish-tail scales, the torn leaves of love letters,

the bloated bulk of a plastic bag.

She takes a piece of each and logs them in her book

of things she took from history, picked from the pockets

of time. Each has a story to tell: a singed feather; an empty

snail shell. The twisted limb of a tree. Each sings

with its own broken flutings, its own fractured poetry.

          When the rivulet where we are borne and met dredges up

          the dawn's tribute, Minerva's on the edge, waiting to pluck

          these fragments of convoluted memories from the deep.

          She marvels at each scientific discovery found as the night

          bites down on day, and the shattered sounds of time travel

          each relic makes in sleep.