Her dark hair falls like the lowered trumpets,
Soundless as the eyelid-close of Accursed Gates,
Past the city’s outer walls and alley-clotted throes,
Some shield-hearted soldier sent to his earthen fold,
Her blood-rimmed sky-lids of night foretell the phantom peace
Of Autumn like a head sinking down with the fell-purpled leaf of war.
***
Love, you once guided the black looms of Autumn,
Olive-skinned druid, you are a dark everything,
And a toss of your hair flings to dust all of Rome.
The Accursed Gates were the gates beside the Triumphal Gates in ancient Rome. For everyday use, the populace entered through the Accursed Gates (the opposite was an ill-omen) and exited through the Triumphal Gates. For triumphs, the army entered through the Triumphal Gates. For funerals, the way was reversed and the dead exited through the Accursed Gates.
The dead were buried outside the city walls, the land of living.
