The Duke bombarded Venice—
the Doge cried, “God have mercy!”
but cries no more—death is witless—
and skiffs halt—abreast, our sea.

The Emperor in Paris—
in repose, sits he, unstirred.
He dreams of fair Helen’s kiss
and consults the augur’s birds.

“Three weeks more! Four’s too many.
What am I taken for? A fool
in full jest? It’s uncanny
the war now suffered. I rule.”

Mare nostrum was at peace,
and bards sung feet of fiddles—
Christ’s kingdom was for the meek—
Who dies by the sword? A riddle.

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Ricardo Quiñones is a critic and poet from New Jersey but now living in Maine, USA. His weekly book reviews can be found on Instagram @bookinglit.