Today, Love: An Anthology of Self

XV ad Kal. Sept.

Latin class
and yet it is the English
for which I cannot find the right words.
In my defense,
It can be difficult to differentiate
Ices from aces,
Souls from salls—
One does not find solstice in the solace,
One finds solace in the solstice, and
In the things which cannot be revived,
Such as my long lost loves
In the pulchritudinous sepulchers,
and the soot-infested thresholds
of my dear homes I only wish to know through
Poorly pieced,
Time-transported translations.
All I know is I know more about
senatus populusque Romanus
Than I do about navigating
the population of
these flooded fortress walls.
What can you do
Damnant quod non intellegunt.

And by Jove help me; I do not
Understand.

I'm trying to push all this
Into the section of my brain that
Works more like a shredder than a filing cabinet.
He is my best friend,
And yet my enemy—
either plotting my assassination or my
Salvation,
So I count down the days to the Ides
And hope for better things,
Hope for better days.
Tomorrow means nothing, but
cras keeps all 7 hills beneath its blazing tongue.
It has been a while since the solstice and
The eclipse is coming.
Obstruction does not always mean obliteration.
Sometimes it means
Evolution,
Revolution,
Resurrection.
Magistra, though we root in the path of totality,
We will not be defused,
We will be reborn.