Hail Ceasar

Hail Guiseppe, my friends, is a seldom heard greeting

between Romans anymore. Along the banks

of the Tiber, querying the ides, Democracy’s

last desperate hours, most likely ends in bitterness

of intercity rivals jostling over the Coppa Campioni.

Governed by the new algebraic, today’s tastes

no longer cater to the old-world testudines …

Claudius and Octavio have been supplanted

by swifter, more comely gods -- Gigi and Fabio

are now the rage among the Etruscan hills.

Nero’s faults have been sanitized. Il Duce,

once again on the rise, forgiven for his gaudy

brashnesses, more and more celebrated as

the champion of the uncultivated contadini,

recognized for the beauty of a granddaughter --

the last gasp of hope’s restoration of an empire.

Ken e Bujold