You Are Not A Gladiator

It first occurred
To me that you may be
of Rome. In that, it
is the softness; out
of final heat as in
the red-lacking
afternoon, of shorn grass and Grecian columns, how they
borrowed all the Old Gods and here, lending
out my Apollo against the chipped
Railing. I am not Roman. Of that I am sure.

Here. Myriad, orange:
Green: Grey: Hope and it
Culminates in the antiquity of removal. Diamonds
Are refracting all this
Anger is it yours? All I
Find is
Intensity and there remains
(to be)
A difference.

After the panorama of
Heightened variation on town and brickā€¦
The Coliseum faded behind flagpoles
And busses and flocking
Mallards. There is not
Any remaining
Explanation. You are

It is enough.

You cannot be
A Gladiator all the
Rough evolvement of
Silver and bronze, a praetorian
The color in your
Textured arms, the build
Catching beauty in
The sun and the
Circular sweep of

I always affirm that it is
The Light and I am only
By the reflection
Of passing Chariots.