Caesar kept his promise when he crossed the Rubicon,
Beatified and blunt on the mosaic and stained glass,
Guards morphed from slabs of stone with their duty gone,
Gentrified and dumped and where the road ends it rains ash.
Flames from Nergal then reach to the ceiling,
Nepal then melts away,
Bubble like the gin with a crutch and a killing,
Water raises familiars in the bay.
Cyclones and sirens and the algae in the opal city,
Sifting through the air on the bamboo shoots,
Singing the song with a busker to a local ditty,
Winning isn’t wishing, but to know what you want when you lose.