Gladiator
After I was capturedI was sold to a mild man
Who gave me the choice
Of the light of the atrium
Or the dark of the arena.
I could have served drinks
Or tended exotic flowers,
Cleaned out the latrines
Or massaged demi-gods,
But I wanted to be myself.
In the light I would wear
A cute little number edged
With a Greek-key hem.
In the dark I would have
A choice of three, yes, three
Different martial looks.
And so it came to pass,
I chose to become a Thracian,
Near naked with a glint of hope.
After I was captured
By my Neptune nemesis,
I stared at his fish-eyes
And waited for the light
Or the dark of the thumbs.
Poetry by Christopher Fernie
Read 190 times
Written on 2021-07-06 at 23:57
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