Poem
Maxine Beneba Clarke
Royal
folktale has it
new arrivals,
they’ll throw any queen
or kingdom
into spin
angered uninvited guests
will conjure curses
horses are saddled:
messengers dispatched far and wide
to burn the spinning wheels
firstborns, golden
they are worth their wait:
their christened names
secreted away
lest rumpelstiltskin hear
the whispers
so, the sussex baby’s here:
son of an english prince,
and in his lineage slaves
son of a proud black kween,
and in his lineage masters
the empire has new clothes,
that’s what i hear
cause in the end,
the baby’s just a baby
bringing all the soiled nappies
gummy-smiling, chucking, waking nights
and charming
even while in tears
no more royalty
than any other born that day
and no less wonder
that true love has brought to bear
This article was first published in the print edition of The Saturday Paper on May 11, 2019 as "Royal". Subscribe here.