There won't be conquests anymore.
Time saw to that. Now comes withdrawal.
There's not the slightest chance that war
Will rouse the appetite at all.
Faint images will have to do,
Ghosting memory's blue cave wall.
Bound fast, this is the last Capri
That isolation offers you.
Excite yourself with fantasy
If memory fails. Below, old goat:
The grotto. Up above: caprice.
Your vices have you by the throat;
Your organs rot now, piece by piece.
Waves wash the cave and never cease.