POEM

Bible Study: 71 B.C.E.

by Sharon Olds

After Marcus Licinius Crassus
defeated the army of Spartacus,
he crucified 6,000 men.
That is what the records say,
as if he drove in the 18,000
nails himself. I wonder how
he felt, that day, if he went outside   
among them, if he walked that human   
woods. I think he stayed in his tent   
and drank, and maybe copulated,   
hearing the singing being done for him,   
the woodwind-tuning he was doing at one   
remove, to the six-thousandth power.   
And maybe he looked out, sometimes,   
to see the rows of instruments,
his orchard, the earth bristling with it   
as if a patch in his brain had itched   
and this was his way of scratching it   
directly. Maybe it gave him pleasure,
and a sense of balance, as if he had suffered,   
and now had found redress for it,   
and voice for it. I speak as a monster,   
someone who today has thought at length   
about Crassus, his ecstasy of feeling   
nothing while so much is being   
felt, his hot lightness of spirit
in being free to walk around
while other are nailed above the earth.   
It may have been the happiest day   
of his life. If he had suddenly cut
his hand on a wineglass, I doubt he would   
have woken up to what he was doing.
It is frightening to think of him suddenly   
seeing what he was, to think of him running
outside, to try to take them down,   
one man to save 6,000.
If he could have lowered one,
and seen the eyes when the level of pain   
dropped like a sudden soaring into pleasure,
wouldn’t that have opened in him   
the wild terror of understanding
the other? But then he would have had   
5,999
to go. Probably it almost never   
happens, that a Marcus Crassus
wakes. I think he dozed, and was roused   
to his living dream, lifted the flap
and stood and looked out, at the rustling, creaking   
living field—his, like an external   
organ, a heart.





 Sharon  Olds

Sharon Olds's poetry, which graphically depicts personal family life as well as global political . . . MORE »

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