Rome is Burning

While Rome burns, the NFL dazzles the many masses with Super Bowl LIX. Allegiant Stadium in Paradise is the grand coliseum. It calls to mind The Hunger Games, a spectacle of distraction. Hunger fills the glossy commercials—food and drink seducing the senses—while true hunger gnaws at Palestinians unnoticed. Rome is burning. Millions watch warriors, modern-day gladiators, battle for glory, oblivious to the fate of federal workers who will be jobless by month’s end—tech giants employees among them. Rome is burning. Caesar plucks chicken feathers without consideration, just as Grandma did back in the day. The black skillet sizzles, waiting for thighs, legs, and breasts—plumped for slaughter, primed for consumption. Rome is burning. Caesar’s vengeance is swift. The Senate is complicit. Who in Rome dares to utter the revelation of Brutus and his conspirators? Silence. No Christian prophet foresees the dagger’s arc. No voice forewarns of a coming fall. Rome is burning. Rome is burning. Rome is burning.

© Emmett Wheatfall