mon petit prince
Heavy is the crown, Heavy is the head,
Heavy is
The sigh,
The smile of
Forgiveness over
Misunderstanding.
Silence in times of war,
Court confused and
Afraid to hang his portrait
At the wrong angle.
Sex & grace in his profile,
Eyeing his thighs to
Enlist in the king’s service:
The bard, his charity,
Not for profit and felt
With every glance.
His love was strong
But tensing. It cowered
In the corner
Behind
Shadows, the
Gaslamp on
The floor
The whole time,
He couldn’t read the signs. He was not the man
Nor the child, requiring the same service he
Offered. He
Requires one
Give what
One expects now.
So much unsung
In the choir of youth.
Infallible, never wrong,
The poet begs at his feet,
Never believing
Idle worship
To be a sin.
Heavy is
The sigh,
The smile of
Forgiveness over
Misunderstanding.
Silence in times of war,
Court confused and
Afraid to hang his portrait
At the wrong angle.
Sex & grace in his profile,
Eyeing his thighs to
Enlist in the king’s service:
The bard, his charity,
Not for profit and felt
With every glance.
His love was strong
But tensing. It cowered
In the corner
Behind
Shadows, the
Gaslamp on
The floor
The whole time,
He couldn’t read the signs. He was not the man
Nor the child, requiring the same service he
Offered. He
Requires one
Give what
One expects now.
So much unsung
In the choir of youth.
Infallible, never wrong,
The poet begs at his feet,
Never believing
Idle worship
To be a sin.
Keenan Teddy Smith is a poet & essayist from Flint, Michigan. He has published poems in The Shade Journal, American Chordata, & T: the New York Times Style Magazine. He has essays and reviews in Michigan Quarterly Review & Hyperallergic. He can be found at www.keenanteddysmith.com and @legallyteddy on Twitter and Instagram. He lives in Chicago, Illinois.