Augustus in Rome | By Neekoo Collett

Augustus stares with blanc discs

Beyond a postcard, received from Rome.

Past the frame, fingers grasp for the history that named him.

Augustus eyes a pigeon; time multiplies like beating wings.

Years pass – beneath Rome I ride backwards in time:

Repubblica, Barberini, Flaminio, Ottaviano…

Wind back through paths of ruins, cracked Caesars

Clock’s hands whittle centuries to slivers.

Meeting the gaze of eroded pupils, I see him.

Octavian sleeps within his statue

Augustus forgets himself as he becomes Augustus

I open my mouth, forget my name, close my mouth.

Neekoo Collett is a fourth year undergraduate, studying honours political science. She has studied poetry under Bert Almon, Shawna Lemay, and Nobel-prizewinner Derek Walcott. She enjoys cake, game theory, and running with bulls. She is currently reading the short stories of Dorothy Parker.  

 

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  • Franklin

    cool

  • Richard

    The last line is tremendous

  • LInus Sicle

    This is a great poem. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be a statue.