Apologies to Shelley.
image: Friedlander
Ozymandias
You are
Ozymandias
Standing legs apart
Hands on your hips
Off with their heads
On your lips
If they but disobey
And yet you
Are moved
By the way
Her skirt
Twirls about her
And her voice
Drowns the
Desert noise
The ululations
Of a dying nation.
I tell you
King of kings
These things are
Like the dust –
Your legs
Will crumble
Beneath your lust
And kingdoms all
Will tremble
At your fall.
