Princess Anawim, four years old
You were born to overthrow me
Terrible in all your beauty
And endless in your energies.
Made of music and sharp white teeth
Hair that streams like banners behind
Blazing eyes fixed on tyranny
That you very nearly deserve.
Princess Anawim I’d throw down
The crown of my paternity
If I thought I could bear to see
My daughter rise a tyrant-queen.
But your prostrate future subjects
Would burn my bones and curse my name
As he who brought their doom to pass
The endless age of Anawim.
So I’ll hold the throne against you
And keep your glory in its place
Just long enough for you to learn
A crown is for the casting down.
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