The kingdom
is up to you. Like
the manette
the cashier hands you
at the grocer’s — “your turn”;
“c’est à vous.”
“Gens du pays,
c’est votre tour”
we sing and it comes
to the same thing
does the kingdom: room
“de vous laisser
parler d’amour.”
Stepping into love
is up to you.
The manette is in your hand,
the kingdom. Punch in.
Here it comes —
never so simple
never yet refused!
There’s room, the debit paid
you know not how.
Oh, you know the dark fires
and you know they are quenched:
your dark fires, your own, your wrath
by the simple act of
punching in your identity —
admitting. “This is me.”
You’re in.
That’s how the kingdom
works.