In My Little Room
By Koon Woon
In my little room, the emperor removes
his robe and we chat
about the mechanics of winning
an election.
“I came, I saw, I conquered,” he says.
When the moon comes out above the
dilapidated warehouse, he asks me
the profundity of going to the moon
and back again to the same ghetto room.
If it pleases your majesty, I say,
the gods make the ghettos.
“I am King,” says the emperor, “I shall
have no gods.”
And he shakes, nearly spilling his oolong tea.
When he has calmed down enough, I
drop two lumps of sugar into his cup.
He marvels at my calculus book and integration
theory and digital watch.
“Had I one of those,” he says, “I would have timed
my crossing of the Rubicon at eighteen,
and what barbarian woman would not have given herself
for that!”
He yawns imperially over
my utensils, books, and cot
and asks me to cross the Rubicon with him.
And I nod while doing tax equations for his majesty
because the hour is late.
He is delighted with the hot chocolate
that I make on a hot plate
and, after making a rough estimate of the roaches
on the wall, he sleeps on my cot
as any sovereign would.
I rattle my typewriter like a machine-
gun all night, partly because it is my
habit, and partly to protect my friend,
the emperor. For though he has crossed
the Rubicon with the bravest of men,
he has yet to sleep a single night
in the ghetto.
Copyright Credit: Koon Woon, "In My Little Room" from Water Chasing Water. Copyright © 2013 by Koon Woon. Reprinted by permission of Kaya Press.
Source: Water Chasing Water (Kaya Press, 2013)