From Publius
To Marcus
Marcus, I must apologize:
It is true that I said you were as Antinous
To Gaius’ Hadrianus,
But do not fret, it was not in jest;
I truly did ask the Gods to curse you so.
You see, this farm,
This land,
Has been my ward long before you…
In your Janus mask,
Were hired.
At least that God understands the difference
Between war and peace.
Unlike you, dear Marcus,
Who brings only chaos to the fields;
A greater pestilence than any drought or rot.
You are the weevil that spoils the grain,
Corrupting all around you.
Poor Gaius has already fallen
Under your impious spell.
His fields grow fallow from association
With you Marcus!
What shame you bring your family
With your lazy immorality,
Incapable of discerning right from wrong,
Lest it be ascribed by your new dominus, Gaius,
Whose skin your claws flay with fatal flattery.
All this while I tend both your fields,
And mine own,
Working myself to the bone;
The heat, and sweat, and bugs,
Reminiscent of Pluto’s underworld.
To honor my family.
To feed my family.
I honor my ancestors Marcus!
Daily, I make offerings to Gods of house and state
At my household alter;
The Capitoline triad overflow with my piety,
Bringing abundance to mine soul and soil alike.
Plenty, that you, sweet Antinous, claim as your own.
No longer.
I’m divorcing myself from all of you.
You can have the land.
As it stands it would make a beautiful wedding plot.
I’ve even gone to the trouble of forging you a ring,
Meticulously sourced from your masters scat!
Consider it a fragrant farewell
From your favorite fan,
Who will fondly not remember you,
Even as you scramble without me,
And miss the coattails you rode,
To usurp my home.
Woe to the plow;
Proscribed to lie in rust.
Signed,
PERTINAX
PERTINAX 