Empire dwindled to tetrarchy, reliant, as an exotic concubine,
on foreign common wealth. The roads rampant with
painted men, too—the whole kingdom the brunt of
Lundenwic’s folly.
The sovereign silent and ceremonious, though powers rise
at the choosing of the Garter, dazzles the opening
of Parliament in borrowed jewels.
I fed the son of Offa Rex, a staggeringly-gifted child, the food
of slaves and his belly had never been so full.
Copyright © 2018 by Dante Micheaux. This poem originally appeared in The Rialto, Issue 90 (May, 2018). Used with the permission of the author.