Best Seats

They looked just like they did in real life,
Once, at my bedside;
Glamorous physicians with
Placebo regalia

Now gazing out into the arena,
As Glorious as those whose
Sweat creates roses
From manure
Skin gleaming like incandescent sand
Scorched by coral and palm
Returning like Richard; Free Witnesses
Escorted to seats by Duty

Inimitably they engage and infiltrate our hearts;
They Bless without application to
Gesture or ritual;
Generic functions inexorable
Strand after strand;
Brilliantine smiles that serve to
Accentuate vicariously chiselled
Blue-bloodied Jaws
Shaped by older battles such as these

Under the touchwood of lens and shutter
They tense like Echo
When all looks bleak
Their creases young but recoverable
Not hard and ingrained by age
And dirt
As one their sleek hands deflect
Failure’s filthy laundry
Stained with mines and asbestos

Then, at the unexpected
Their eyes burnish incandescently
Fuelled with the coals of joy
And Aces taken from the deck of jokers
Lying next to these blistered grapes

But this flame must expire
Snuffed by dry solemn tears
Of Gold, Silver, Bronze,
Not cotton and quilt,
In praise of each superhuman effort
Each breath, stride, dive, leap
Every last push of the chair toward the Finishing Line

So the game is up
We end it alone
The chauffeur the same
Whichever the throne