Light on a Dark Horse

I’ll run backwards through the alphabet,

while you send for the medical man.

The two villains remain nameless

& for several months bled out.

You think you are fit for society

with damask curtains and chandeliers,

playing crooked second fiddle

to a black page and a chamberlain.

That imprudence that you hear

is a song out of tune.

You fancy the airs you give yourself,

like the twopenny ring I gave you in the garden.

My father was King of this country

& I his only son.

The haughtiness was equal.

It’s time the dinner bell rang.

Time to carve the goose and take a glass of wine.

For looking down on you is not looking at all.