Martial

[only rob]

Last summer I was the horseless Alexander,
building monuments to conquests I would never make again
while men clamoured for recognition
of their two-footed stumbles. I could not turn off the sun,
so I hid under their skin.

For too long we burrow, For ages, we burrow
burn and sup at complicated tables,
with tongues and hands helplessly divided. with tongues, hands

What good are accolades, shining shields
and ceremony, when the earth itself
rejects you?

I just loved this as written. My suggestions are probably useless, but here goes, based on my reading aloud. My ear liked the ages substitution because of the soundplay, and, somehow, omitting the and with a hesitation of the comma made it erm, solid in my ear.

This is a delightful poem, and I'm sooo happy to be reading you again.

Rob