THE DEFILE (part 2)
Legio III Gallica,
roman encampment,
frontier outpost,
overlooking the Rhine,
Caius Accius Sparsus,
commanding,
pacing impatiently
Nearly sundown,
Where is she,
what has happened?
Long overdue,
fearing the worst,
mounting a search
We march at dawn!
Up at first light,
at column’s head,
I take my place,
heading west,
across forested waste,
finding nothing,
nary a trace
Midday heat,
a narrow defile,
cautious advance,
skirmishers forward,
carrion birds,
circle ominously aloft,
foreboding grips
A scene of slaughter,
on valley floor,
legionnaire bodies,
naked and bloody,
piled in ragged heaps,
a sickly odor of death,
the buzzing of flies
Amidst the largest pile,
of legionnaire dead,
sturdy crosses bear,
two naked female bodies,
motionlessly hanging,
one my dearest betrothed,
the other her maid servant
I rush forward,
in alarm and dread,
clawing desperately over,
the mound of slain
Is there still life,
up on those crosses,
or is she gone?
Both women hang limply,
pitifully, forlornly
fingers curled,
wrists gored,
backs bowed,
knees bent,
and vulgarly spread
Downturned faces,
hair cascading over,
upturned breasts,
pale skin stretching
protruding ribs,
blood-stained thighs,
shattered feet
Grim faced and silent,
my men gather ‘round,
staring intently,
recognizing the intent,
of the ghastly tableau,
meant to taunt,
Roman might.
Tentatively I reach,
two hands extended,
to touch their necks,
How long have they hung there,
naked and writhing,
hoping and praying,
that help would come?
A pulse, can it be?
Yes, it is,
still alive,
the blonde one,
she moves,
eyes fluttering,
rasping moan
My love moves too,
shudders so slightly
gasps for air,
opens her eyes,
shifts her hips,
and croaks out,
my name
“Get them down!”
I bellow to those around,
men spring to action,
at my command,
“Careful now,” I warn,
“pry the nails out carefully,
lower them gently”
Lettica retrieved,
and set upright,
we lay them
nakedly side by side,
soft pillows beneath,
water fetched to drink,
and cleanse their wounds
Grim faced we return,
uncertain whether,
they will survive or die,
only fate will decide,
but whatever the outcome,
one thing is certain,
revenge will be ours
We know our enemies,
Rome never forgets,
these barbarians will pay dearly
in blood and suffering,
for this outrageous affront,
for each Roman death,
hundreds shall die
And in answer to,
this taunting tableau,
this act of defiance,
this lurid violation
and vile crucifixion,
of my innocent beloved
and her maiden fair
The roads all around,
for mile after mile,
shall be lined with crosses,
carrying the tortured bodies,
of every barbarian,
man and woman,
my men can find
Barbaria, 2014
Legio III Gallica,
roman encampment,
frontier outpost,
overlooking the Rhine,
Caius Accius Sparsus,
commanding,
pacing impatiently
Nearly sundown,
Where is she,
what has happened?
Long overdue,
fearing the worst,
mounting a search
We march at dawn!
Up at first light,
at column’s head,
I take my place,
heading west,
across forested waste,
finding nothing,
nary a trace
Midday heat,
a narrow defile,
cautious advance,
skirmishers forward,
carrion birds,
circle ominously aloft,
foreboding grips
A scene of slaughter,
on valley floor,
legionnaire bodies,
naked and bloody,
piled in ragged heaps,
a sickly odor of death,
the buzzing of flies
Amidst the largest pile,
of legionnaire dead,
sturdy crosses bear,
two naked female bodies,
motionlessly hanging,
one my dearest betrothed,
the other her maid servant
I rush forward,
in alarm and dread,
clawing desperately over,
the mound of slain
Is there still life,
up on those crosses,
or is she gone?
Both women hang limply,
pitifully, forlornly
fingers curled,
wrists gored,
backs bowed,
knees bent,
and vulgarly spread
Downturned faces,
hair cascading over,
upturned breasts,
pale skin stretching
protruding ribs,
blood-stained thighs,
shattered feet
Grim faced and silent,
my men gather ‘round,
staring intently,
recognizing the intent,
of the ghastly tableau,
meant to taunt,
Roman might.
Tentatively I reach,
two hands extended,
to touch their necks,
How long have they hung there,
naked and writhing,
hoping and praying,
that help would come?
A pulse, can it be?
Yes, it is,
still alive,
the blonde one,
she moves,
eyes fluttering,
rasping moan
My love moves too,
shudders so slightly
gasps for air,
opens her eyes,
shifts her hips,
and croaks out,
my name
“Get them down!”
I bellow to those around,
men spring to action,
at my command,
“Careful now,” I warn,
“pry the nails out carefully,
lower them gently”
Lettica retrieved,
and set upright,
we lay them
nakedly side by side,
soft pillows beneath,
water fetched to drink,
and cleanse their wounds
Grim faced we return,
uncertain whether,
they will survive or die,
only fate will decide,
but whatever the outcome,
one thing is certain,
revenge will be ours
We know our enemies,
Rome never forgets,
these barbarians will pay dearly
in blood and suffering,
for this outrageous affront,
for each Roman death,
hundreds shall die
And in answer to,
this taunting tableau,
this act of defiance,
this lurid violation
and vile crucifixion,
of my innocent beloved
and her maiden fair
The roads all around,
for mile after mile,
shall be lined with crosses,
carrying the tortured bodies,
of every barbarian,
man and woman,
my men can find
Barbaria, 2014
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