In an overcast Scottish sky, a plane circles
like a call on hold, carrying a lady in waiting.
Below, at Balmoral, the self proclaimed
booster rocket splashes out.
It is unlikely we will see photos
of him ploughing. A chorus of low thunder
fills the short interval before the Queen
offers her hand for the fifteenth time.
The kiss is symbolic.
Instead, a small handshake suffices
to greet the latest Prime Minster.
She bears the same moniker, but
unlike Elizabeth, she uses the diminutive.
Liz.
She promises to deliver a better future,
to be like Hera, protector of children.
Yet I wonder if that night, as she closed the door
on the first day of her government
whether she held her breath and listened
for noises in the street?
Or did she simply kiss her children
good night
and toddle off to bed?
Annie Cowell is a former teacher who lives by the sea in Cyprus with her husband and rescue dogs. She is widely published in Popshot Quarterly, The Milk House, Paddler Press, and more. Her debut chapbook Birth Mote(s) is now available.
