First Published in Countercurrents in September 2020
Rome burnt as Nero* played the fiddle. Fiery flames walk highways, creep into homes, stalking, burning, killing not only coronal heat but hearths. Inflamed by the surreptitious smoke seeping under the smouldering trees, breeze rips incensing fierce fires that unquenched swallow clean air and belch apocalyptic hellish skies. Did Nero build palaces by burning Rome? I cannot breathe. This is without the knee. I cannot breathe. wait for rain — that may not come wait for cool — emperors are busy Coal cinders glow at night angering the Earth. Hooded men caper to the song of the grim reaper. Statues crumble under the gaze of the angry blaze, no longer victimised violenced by hate. History, annihilated by the inferno,
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