Kings And Unicorns* (In Canada)

Suppose, at this point, we did not have a King

or a Queen or a Unicorn, or what-have-you.

Ask yourself flatly on debt-fallen arches,

Why on earth would we want one?

Hardly at all are monarchs emerging elsewhere in modern politics.

Nor are they orange and black, divine, fluttering so as to guide the soul.

Those that exist are immobile insects, giants in need of colonies for shade;

and to right them, prop them, feed them shit— all floundering legs upside down.

Here in Canada, where winter reigns in robes and moguls of bounding white,

with our Spruce trim and navy sleeves; the Arctic, a turquoise, glacial crown,

The Canadian Shield and Rocky Mountains served up as our escutcheon,

it’s time to say: Thanks but no thanks. It’s been long enough.

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*Says Stephen in Ulysses