Piedigrotta (Virgil's Guidance)

And on your deathbed

You inexplicably said

The sun is masking the clouds

He gracefully unlocks the door

And we wade across the threshold

As six black eyes bore into mine

He pacifies the animal

A cursory glance o'er my back

Reveals the light receding

And at the first of nine sharp ivory gates

My final thought in crystal

I am the drought

I am the drought