Here is a crown and a man in a room
Overhead wooden bones of the building loom
Not a burden to bear
Ermine absent up there
Yet below is the womb of the power; below
.
Yes below, where the man and the crown are alone
Only symbols and heavy-band circlets and bone
Under beams, above floor, just the man on his own
.
Simple room, exhibition a central display
His, a lazy smile; teeth shattered glass in their rows
On the door are his eyes; empty room, empty gaze
Under time, over stone, power sat in its pose
Living breath of the man
Dead wherever he goes
.
So the crown is the mask
Empty crown
Empty eyes
.
Man in ermine and jeans
Every role a disguise
.
In the weight of the wait, and the slight-slipping smile
Nothing moves but the breath of the man for a while
.
(And he can't see the crown where he's sat)
.
Cape a noose round a neck; crown halo of lead
Room full up of the empty and broken and dead
One alone, without rules
Wearing t-shirt and jewels
No-one there but the crown in his head