Parade of Succession

I met the singer of a new British post-punk band, 
who sounded just like The Fall.
He was from one town over in England 
from where I grew up, and the same town 
as Mark E. Smith. After the Queen died, he said
things were serious and strange in England. 
A wall of screens overlooking London, 
filled with repeating Queen faces stared down 
at the street, demanding a level of public sadness.

Last summer I happened to be in the UK
during the Queen's jubilee, 
to visit my grandmother, then 93 years old,
two years younger than the Queen,
and recovering from a fractured hip. 

Along the Cheshire country lanes to the nursing home, 
vines of triangular union jacks wrapped themselves
like invasive species on the fences, quiet evidence
of little queen parties taking place in back gardens
and cul de sacs throughout the country.

We found Grandma by the window, watching TV,
on which various aging celebrities 
were extolling Her Majesty's virtues.
Nile Rodgers promised a newscaster
that the royal family are more down to earth 
than you'd expect. Then the band Queen played
for the queen, an American Idol singer
standing in for Freddie Mercury.

I guess I was in a Zoom all staff meeting 
when the queen died, idly noticing the news 
on the right hand side of my Twitter feed, 
right after our executive director announced
that after fifteen years he would be stepping down.

2 comments:

  1. love the way each stanza starts -- and all the trippy/mundane details that make up time <3 also "little queen parties"

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  2. I am really confused by the sudden, recent ubiquity of Nile Rodgers. Fantastic producer and musician for sure, but not someone who was constantly a talking head for all manner of things 20 years ago. He must be really nice.

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