Royally pissed.

By Vivienne Moghal.

An American woman entranced
a would be king.
and so this one event and a total
accident of birth
put you in your Saville Row suit,
inner disdain, not hidden but
written on your face as
you stroll down a red carpet,
fingering solid gold cufflinks
in your trademark gesture.

I look at you and do not see royal genealogy
stretching back centuries, honouring rank
and noble birth but merely a
pathetic man
living in luxury,
having his toothpaste
squeezed onto his toothbrush,
who once said he wanted to be reincarnated
as the
tampon of his secret mistress.

We, we the people, we work, we toil,
we sweat and we grow weary.

you are nothing,
we are everything.

You are not even a capital letter in my mind.

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