Originally posted 1/29/10.  

The Prime Minister
approached the king
with head bowed, cringing.

“Your Highness,
I tremble to speak of it, but
your crown is covered in blood.”

“Yes,” said the king.
“See how it shines?
See how

from this window, that bronze eagle
on the flagpole also drips royal crimson
onto the paving, see how

the walls of the palace glow wetly
in the level beams
of the sinking sun?

Make of it what you will,
Prime Minister, but know
that from afar (which is after all

the only way we allow ourselves
to be viewed)
we are glorious.”