Alchemisland

Long gone the days 

Of legions unafraid 

Chasing Mithridates 

From the city walls 

To the shores of Euphrates.

The scored shield of the gloried legion,

Now a sprouting boundless must have edges found for it.

The pitiless strength must be fitted

With satin gloves more fitting

For making love poetry

Than subduing rebel tribes.

This subjugating subject to which I am subjected

Suffers neither peer lecture nor editorial truncation.