POETRY
Crowned
Pull the cracker
wear the crown
paper crepe like old skin
a riddle told in time
full of pomp and circumstance
struggling like any tradition
to find relevance and justification
in a modern world
How much does it weigh?
(encrusted jewels set
deep as wrinkles in a
care-worn visage)
What’s the sceptor for,
what wielding?
Wherein lies the power
when a family finds itself
splintered at the root?
God save you, fellow human
not because of a fancy title
but because you’re no different
than the rest of us,
who also need saving
and who also hope to experience
amid the blast of many trumpets
a coronation we didn’t earn
I hadn’t really been thinking about the coronation that just took place in England, and I certainly don’t have a dog in that fight, being American (and directly descended from the only American ever imprisoned in the Tower of London), but I did live in the UK for a while so the event was in my mind enough to jot down this poem the other day. It’s a curious thing, to me.
Thanks for reading!
