Defeat

She could hear the defeat of her body
Like thin pulpy strings jetting out of a torn watersac-
the same intermittent spatter she had heard in the latrine for her male slaves
the same coy rancid smell of urine that lingers on the face kissing her

His- her slave's meaty tongue danced wetly in her ears, then-
almost as if possessed by a brutal inspiration, licked up the agitated bulbs of her tear
from the wet pool of her fear- drawn, living eyes.

With a deep chuckle her killer twisted the ruffles of her raven lockes
And presented her the ghastly vision of her lithe writhing form.
the sight of her once scented hands and dancer's toes twitching like spider legs
the ruin of her mighty hips- that once birthed a true scion worthy of Aurelius- and Emperor- turn pale.

As she died she heard the spatter from the gurgle of her voice on the mosiacs,
and the gleeful bird song outside the villa, darting from the gold green canopies
and saw the two lone bodies of that titanic room- one of rings and perfume the other of urine
relieve themselves upon the same marble's white.
ave Lucilla, imperatrix, meretrix splendidis, et datum humi putrescat.
As she died she only wished it would be someone else who kills her daughter.