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.