“Fast
goes fast. Slow goes slow.”
Captain Beefheart
Silence
would be my knave.
The words I used to use
to cajole you into loving my body
would be the words in
the royal crest. Stones would be
my gargle. The trees,
those tired thespians, would lead
my armies. I would war
on neighbors both friendly and not.
I would call silence before me
and dress it down. And in
the royal chamber, where I would
dream of you nonstop,
I would fashion my children out
of earth and call them blesséd.
The kingdom itself would bear your
name. In that way I would know
that kings are about as important as
the neighborhood scamps.
And I would rule forever and ever amen.
