Of the Death of Brutus

.

The Republic has fallen, never again
to beacon physically to the world.

No sudden catastrophe; witness
years of crumbling stone,

rotting libraries, addled brains.
A saviour – flawed – an open rogue –

craved, conspired to redeem himself,
to redeem the Republic of his Fathers –

he plunged a dagger into usurpation,
unrealising it had seeped

into most glands and wombs, had
birthed mobs, chancers, careerists –

and in his defeat, Brutus knew he too
was of the mob – a chancer, a careerist –

.

Graham Allison has worked as an archaeological site excavation assistant, barman, researcher and bookseller.  His poetry has appeared in various magazines including Acumen, The North, Poetry Review, Poetry Salzburg Review, The Spectator and Stand.

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