
Painting by William Holmes Sullivan
the ides that hid the knives
of March now come and gone
my wounds gaping witnesses
knowing who owned daggered hands
holding heirloom my empire
I gave them maps of the world
drawn in blood of the eagles
their gratitude cloaked in false
tribute they murdered my glory
for wanting true title of king
but my death lives forever
beyond crimson dust of my bones
for in grief of their guilt they
gave height of summer my name
From my books Bohemian Scents and Legacies (vol. 1)