King of the Gauls

I am Vercingetorix
tied to a stake,
tied to Caesar’s cock,
whispering ‘respice post te‘ into his taint,
stationary and starving in a No-Man’s Land,
perched above Cleopatra’s bosom,
held at bay by false hopes of civil war
and dreams of Egyptian grain,
losing the contest,
having my bluff called,
marched in a Triumph and
showcased for Senators
through the dirty streets of a city for sale.
I am the King of the Gauls,
I upturn my little tip jar,
hang upside-down
like Peter on the cross,
like Jugurtha in a cistern,
like a wise owl-king
deposed by the Praetorian Guard,
like the highest bidder,
or the man who accidentally
puts on Caesar’s robe
or like any man who has risen, and fallen,
and fallen once more,
but not.
Vercingetorix, instead.
Lex talionis.

About allisunknown

26 year-old student, tutor, and writer. Write for Also nascent pedestrian advocate. Twitter handles:
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