No revenge for my Edomite father
or for Marianne or for my sons
yet the perforate tissue
that glues me to quick salt
the black glass of the Dead Sea...
I am Herod and I remember
puerile Octavian, and the Roman hillocks
where I burnt the last betrayal -
Yesh, my past is the past of Sulayman
our great pools stir in single curse and shadow
But love me a little longer.
For I built you a city
And tore temples from the dust
I am Herod and I did not
kill my children without hurt
or break my woman's dark womb
without the dry sound of dead vegetation
ghosting my words
recall the roman exploits
the whirring horses
the journeys to Egypt
where we feasted on sand
weep for me a little
and the era I put together
I, Herod
 germanicus2 · Sat Nov 22, 2008 @ 04:46pm · 0 Comments |
