Panthera’s Watch

A mess of enemy light this cold Judean sky,
Illuminating goats and the shit of goats.
Why not just darkness when there’s nothing to see?
Can I not lay down my spear and self and sleep
And dream of that girl I took last night?
She smelled of shit, some peasant’s whelp,
And bleated like a goat, but by Mars
I’d favour her again with Roman love.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s