For the want of a nail a horseshoe was lost
from the foot of a mount whose king got tossed
on his duff, in the dirt, while a battle raged,
for the crown, a country, its history's last page.
Lazily, as the king endured his last fling,
at the castle, his queen without word of a thing,
indulging her fantasy, luxuriated abed
in contact with the button from which passion fed.
In this day of the bomb and the president's case,
when near him, deterrent for the whole human race
being spared the aftermath of nuclear fission,
a sheathed button, touched, explosive its mission.
Whether queen or the first executive of this land,
there can come a time when urgency will demand
being heard, above crowds of prioritized voices,
to remind of this the most primal of choices.
--Don Juan de Feu
copyright 1997, The Goober Tree Press, all rights reserved