Ab Larentia

My sons,

You have unmade me,

Made me mother to an empire--

Would that the two of you once

Again were twin vigilantes, rather than

A king and a corpse.

 

My sons,

Nursed by one she-wolf

And raised by another,

And one could see it in your temperament.

As fierce as both of us

And as gentle--I had hoped.

 

The sun

Rode high that day,

Not brought to me by

Blood, but stolen by blood,

Was your brother worth a city,

My son?

 

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