The coins
of the Younger Justinian’s second reign
are rare. Recognizing
their numismaticity
they passed out of circulation
and into the drawers of the rich
as rapidly as they were struck.
The authorities
becoming aware of a good thing
issued more coins. In the streets
they were sold like amphetamines:
under-cover; in alley-ways,
especially, there was a black-market
in uncirculated Solidi,
the emperor’s full face gleaming
at his audience of collectors.
In his left hand he holds
a sword. In the right a cross.
To celebrate the occasion
on which he would eventually
get his revenge
on those who had ousted him previously,
he changed the inscriptions
from Latin to Greek. That
was also a sop, to the masses
who were indigenous to the East.
But then, thinking (erroneously) that a little extra
gold in hand, as they said later
of Paris, was worth a Mass at Saint Sophia,
he cut down the weight. Well,
kill whom you will,
but don’t short-change your protectors.
As may be anticipated
that was his downfall.
They gouged out his eyes
like hot tamales
and the Master of the Mint
made a similar peace
with his maker.
Such then was the apex
of the Byzantine Empire.
In the next generation
they were more careful
with the coinage.