So many cars lined up
Along my avenue,
Like ants carrying on
For a feast.
The queen is in state,
Her penant prounouces presense;
The flag promoting reign.
We peons, serfs and minions
Stare vaguely at the floor,
Afraid to look for more.
She rises, head above her throne,
Face on the coinage,
Proclaiming lineage
With treason and conspiracy.
Please don't glance my way.
I've given sacrifices
Of doves and relatives,
All tethered to the rituals.
There is pack position.
Vats of red wine and room for dissent.
We've drowned our children.
You can see the palor in their eyes.