I would walk the forum of Rome
see the space where justice,
such as it may have appeared,
was meted out for or against
worthy men and women robed
within limits given by their class.
Here hung the rostra of ships
laid up by heroic roman captains;
pointed prows near which heads
were nailed by Sulla, by Marius,
but not by Julius, ironically, the One,
the destroyer of the Republic.
There stood the temple to the god
himself, Julius again, next his nephew,
brilliant Octavian, schemer, avenger
yet faithful steward to duties he alone
devised and laid out and followed
as though exercising ancient rituals.
Castor without Pollux, is here,
Curia and Saturn share space,
if not time, with Hercules and Juno,
here where natural enemies unite
in the cause of empiric grandeur,
greater than Greek gods and heroes.
This is Rome, needs no force,
nor cry of frail Spartan defiance
nor murdering of emissaries;
this is Roma, Power of old
where set forth legions to seize
mantle of heaven from all gods.
