A. Hossack
Aestas Mortua
I’ll have you know,
Irreverent Hearer,
That I was king
In another era
But there was insurrection
By consular faction
And disaffection
Causing contraction
Strangling
My universe.
Yet I do not wish
To be reinstated:
My insignia’s lost,
My purple dated
And my wavering decision
Cannot withstand
The salon’s derision
For resurgence planned
Lingering
On alien soil.
My people’s soul
Shall find salvation
In the usual way
—By propagation
Of other idolatry—
Eternal replacement.
And I, desultory
In furtive basement,
Fingering
Dull relics.
Page(s) 161-162
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