Week #3—Improv #1

Excerpt from “The Hotel Normandie Pool” by Derek Walcott

And I, whose ancestors were slave and Roman,

have seen both sides of the imperial foam,

heard palm and pine tree alternate applause

as the white breakers rose in galleries

to settle, whispering at the tilted palm

of the boy-god, Augustus. My own face

held negro Neros, chalk Caligulas;

my own reflection slid along the glass

of faces foaming past triumphal cars.

What Belongs to Caesar

Now you, whose blood was infused with fear,

have duplicated the sins of your predecessors,

held sun and moon in each hand

only to set them free of their spin

in space, taunting the reckless orbit

of gigantic Jupiter. Your own head

spitting salt cities, crowded countries;

your self-deception dipped in the shame

of abandoned quests in exchange for currency.