pompeiian pigment,

a red deeper than blood, seeps into my dreams.

the shadow of vesuvius slowly creeps onto my pillow as i close my eyes.

i sense the last moments as i toss restlessly;

i can hear them calling to one another,

the moment the sun's light succumbs

to the nightmare cloud.

vulcan within the mountain, laughing;

a town sacrificed to the hungry gods.

pumice raining down, and a torrent of fire.

flames licking at me, i am drenched in my bed.

the scent of sulphur, the rancid taste of boiling grapes.

wild drumbeats from deep within the earth, maenads scattering;

dionysus lurching drunkenly down the hill.

pan's hooves pounding beneath the din in the fertile valleys

soon to be buried in ash.

a vast silence;

bodies, frozen in flight for an eternity.

crying, i cannot wake from a buried memory.

it goes on and on, i cannot breathe;

i can see rivers of fire and i can feel the end of an age.

the sightless eyes of statues peering into volcanic gloom.

ghosts lost and forever wandering through subterranean chambers,

reliving final choking moments in the shadows.

dawn breaks, all is smoke;

and still i am there, compelled to watch as

the ruins become a distant memory;

intimate witness to a history violently encased in volcanic rock.

the wind blows through villas and boat chambers to caress naked bone;

and i wake, shivering and haunted,

my body covered in a thin layer of ancient ash.