The Spoils of Jerusalem   A hundred times taken, the city gleams with golden domes, whispered riches, the tides of history. Conquerors have come, dreaming   of the Holy of Holies, the Rapture, the Grail . . . of a never-ending stream of loot. My plunder? A coffee-stained map,   some hard-bartered trinkets, two tattered guide books, three shekels, and just a single snapshot of God, before the battery died.     © Michael Fleming Brattleboro, Vermont December 2015