Her Royal Highness
What happens next is anybody’s mess.
And, I might add, a real treat knowing you.
—John Ashbery
The tents are coming down.
I wore one in ’18 like a hoop
skirt that kept falling down.
A glittery princess knelt at
the rim of it, dark as it was,
even on the outside, I’m
certain Her Royal Highness
could tell it was brilliantly
sheer and the color of a wet
pumpkin. She left a tiny cake of
mostly sugar, and quickly departed
in sparkly whirl of glitter, saying
something heartwarmingly charming
as she flew away into the icy wind.
