Actaea to Nero
Dearest emperor, when I first arrived in Rome,
A mere slave, a concubine-
You made my prison a home.
The kohl, that purse of gold,
The diamonds, rubies, pearls-
Ah yes! Of course- don’t look so cold-
And those kind glances you gave me,
Of course, all solidified our love,
My sweet dove, my manly -er- honey bee!
—-------------------
Now here I stand, six weeks later,
Plaiting the hair of Poppaea, that Roman whore;
By, Jove, by Mohammad, by Moloch, how I wonder
Why you would leave me for such an ugly boar!
Is avarice such a crime, dearest emperor,
Sweet Nero, whose generosity I did adore?
THE CORPSE’S BRIDE
Oh, how happy is the Princess of Spain,
Her husband has come home again
His bejewelled fingers finally at rest
Lay still across his manly chest
Oh, how happy is the Princess of Spain
Her husband has come home again
His hands no longer venture to curl
Around the waist of some common churl
How happy is the Princess of Spain,
My husband has come home again!
Outside the castle whispers fly
From the jealous mouths of passers-by:
“How deluded is the Princess of Spain,
Keeping company with her husband’s remains.”
Cleopatra’s Last Gasp
Sitting in her sedan chair,
She smiles, despite it all.
Gold is strewn in her hair,
As if its glint will outshine her imminent fall.
Her servant, Charmian, waits at her side,
Drawing kohl around her eyes.
Tears slice down Charmian’s cheeks,
But Cleopatra’s eyes are dry.
Charmian slips gold bracelets
Over her queen’s hand.
Clutching the velvet on which she sits,
Cleopatra takes a stand
“Charmian, the asp.”
Anticipating the pain,
She lets out a gasp,
at the thought of a new reign.
Lev Bitterman - these poems were inspired by Lev's interest in history. Lev has previously had poems published in "Ink" Literary Review.
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