THE THIEF OF POMPEII

(Via del Abbondanza, 79 CE)

Ajax slithered through the crowds,
snake in a labyrinth, head down, naked
beneath a toga borrowed without asking
from his master Lucius Gaius Caesar.

Couldn't control his habit of taking things,
hurried to the men's baths, relishing a chance
to rifle through clothes left behind by bathers.

A bag of gold coins! Thank you, Fortuna!
No time to count. He left, treasure under toga.

Outside, black clouds raced over Pompeii's villas, shops, aqueducts, bars, brothels.

Tremors made Ajax lose balance. A chariot
shot into air, toppled. Merchant carts halted.

Fearful eyes bulged, horses reared, drivers
jettisoned. Buildings shook. People streamed

from houses, shops — piercing shrieks, wailing,
as a sticky substance fell like misty rain.

Ajax glanced up at Mount Vesuvius.
Twisted tufts of flames raged silently

near gnarled gray vapors.
Like ghosts dancing on graves.

A rapidly moving dark mass filled the sky, killed the sun.
Roiling seas lapped at beaches; Leviathan’s mouth

gathered stray boats, chewed them into pieces.
Steaming lava approached quickly —

its boiling-hot fumes convinced Ajax all this chaos
was his punishment for stealing. On his knees:

Jupiter, let me live to return the gold!