The Coronation Poem by Rae Desmond Jones

in the corner of the small square park
a rat picks at a lunchwrap
the night is quiet & the moon is still


the clouds shift above the sober
winter trees & their branches are edged
with ice

everywhere about me small insects
scratch through grass & leaves

i wait below the aureola of lights
the city & the hum of cars
silence & darkness

the woman who is inside me
all the time has turned & faced me
her long hair brushes the side of my
cheek the breeze of a razor

she turns her hands & smiles

i am a little afraid but calm
i want to die

in the corner the rat picks
into the soft centre of a sandwich
i tremble like dry paper