Tiberius

One day, he lassoo'd the rising sun
He cut it in half with a grapefruit knife
and we ate it for breakfast

I love the way he defied convention
and rode the weather of his old age,
however ferocious and absurd it seemed

His island, with its frescoes of nudes,
its sex slaves and gestapo hiding in groves,
was a clay cup that I softened and fired in

I slowly took on his shape
as I looked back on civilised Rome
with more and more disgust