The Centurion’s Inquest


I saw him three times,
This cub Caractacus –
Once as his war host
Broke in waves
Upon our shields,
For seven years
He was a heath fire
Scorching our heels.

The second time,
In Rome: he silenced
Gawping crowds
And wore our chains
Like laurel wreaths.

Lastly, by chance,
Two nights before his death-
A British dusk
Of bronze and grey,
Spilling wine,
Re-fighting lost campaigns.




Kevin Patrick McCann
Photo Nick Victor

From Still Pondering

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