they got used to the noise, the grinding

they got used to the noise

they got used to the noise, the grinding
of marble on marble shifting

they builded their stalls and storerooms
abutting the base of the pillars

no betrayal blinded their sampson,
installed as their jovial patron

they sought him and they found him
they chose him and they fed him

they welcomed the noise, the grinding
the movement of solid stone

as the temple collapses they sell
and trade the broken bits

spinning, the fragments fall,
pediment faces and arms,

blind eyes fixed in ruin.
stone saints now saleable.

as falling blocks fill the air --
sampson steals out, stage right