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Saint Matthew, Publican

The face upon Caesar's coin
tastes no death. If it could turn full face
it would lie, full in face. No god but Caesar
says the gold eye that lights, like hell
nothing to buy.

Follow Me. Superscription and its face
are sallow rust, a ruin
ignorant graves, armies, brute time
conspire toward. Caesar weeps at last
is man at last, and dies.

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