The Rape of the
Sabine Women
“To each Roman, a Sabine bride”—
They dive
The flowing crimson of their robes,
sordid from the muddy below,
and they scrap.
They scrape.
They rap.
They rape.
Onto each Sabine,
to each Roman—a bride.
this regal wolf boy,
attack,
His following of sanguid lashing teeth,
bearing on mother and child …
Harlot and Virgin
Lady and Servant
chews, spews forth geyser of geyser of Sabine blood,
spilt like the daily milk from the sacrificial goat.
Jack “the Ripper” never invited such comparisons.
No starved painter ever showed his pain—
either felt or inflicted—
In life, death and otherwise.
As the thick denseness of the London Fog swallowed,
and the screams of the common whore were consumed
and the rape was consummated:
A hero in