Poem of the Week

Meditations on Marc Antony
Lindy Jensen

You are the ground—
unbreakable and yielding
lush and barren
Motherly with muscled arms.
We stand upon your back.
But he is an honorable man.

You are a hero
Murderers and injustice
fold before your toes
or crumple beneath your heel.
The kittens of Rome
romp in your wake.
But he is an honorable man.

Feel that blade
thick with conviction
betrayal sharp.
Feel those blades.
Tips dripping ruby jewels
into their itching palms.
But he is an honorable man.

You are a man
and the ground whips chips and rots
at all bodies,
No difference between
plebeians nor
should-be kings.
But he is an honorable man.

You are a symbol
Snakes that caress
through the body
through the open holes
sleeping on golden bones.
But he is an honorable man.

Your are Polaris
guiding dirty and thin
sheep to sweet grass,
beating the wolves
with well-chosen words.
But he is an honorable man.

You are a God
with no title but Caesar
Loved like a Father
Loved like a feast.