The Emperor's wicked game

Amar Shah · the Emperor's wicked game

The prince must play the emperor's wicked game,
pronounces fool, and all around, they rally
round: "The game, the game, the emperor's game!
It's time to play the Emperor's Wicked Game!"

Calm yourselves, my pretties, yes, we'll play
the wicked game, the game of kings, the game
of foolish princes, all the princes play
the game, the wicked game. Okay, the game:

A surface clean or clean enough, a square
or wide, rectangular. Clear it off
and empty deck of 78. Don't shuffle.

Flip each from hidden bottom into rows,
sowing, seeding while you, heeding, knowing
when another row to plow and tow.

Stay, parades of lords and ladies, swords
and dragons, coins and icy beverage handling:
Leader each of train collect, in dwindling
decks: five, six, seven, eight, depends how late
you left the longest train.
Arranging decks
face up, dequeue from top, yes, pop and drop
across the way: unwanted left; across,
the wands, all wands, the wands you want. "The wands
and want it," everything you want, all wanted:
vault them to the right.
You wanted wands
and now you've got the ones you wanted, Prince.
The emperor is pleased but not yet sated.
Seat him side, you'll need him, whether wanted,
not, you'll need him. Prince, the emperor's game
continues:
Discarded cards unwanted.
Right
and left spread out and paired: your steady betters,
spread and paired, some solo spared. And all
arranged in line and square. Here or there
might line unwroken, trine unbroken.
All steady,
true, but some are known to you—remove them.
Bid a kind adieu. If you've seen
them once, spent a second in their stead,
a rousing hour in their bed, then bid
adieu. They can't help you, can't help you play
the Emperor's game, the Emperor's wicked game.

Prince, are you all right, my boy? Are you
all right? You're looking white, the parts of you
not red. Are you ready for the fight?
Good! Almost time to read the ready
cards:
These unknown lords, supporters, have
admired you from afar, and now they wish
to show you who they are, but first you have
to show you know them, when they are. Arrange!

Dusk to dawn, today and dusk again:
my wands, my star, my queens and pages, sun!

At last the ladies, lords and vassals of
the court: every dagger, coin, every
staff and flagon, every gilded whore
and black assassin. I, naked prince,
whipped, stripped and bleeding, tremble, shake
behind the gate, behind the great hall's door:

Seven blind, I rhyme the final line.

Good prince, you have done well. This time, I mean it.
You've caused a worthy scene, you've weighed the crown
and seen it. You've met the crowd and screened it:
Seven found,
some up, some down, some blue, some brown. Encircle them
around the emperor: Mother, Maiden,
Crone and Stranger. Smith and Warrior, Father.

The Emperor, the center, makes them eight. You've played.

Rise, my son. Look into stranger's face.
Look into emperor's face. Meet your father,
mother, take the grail, the jewel, sword
and scepter. Seven gather round you, up
and down, black and green and blue and yellow,
brown. Some to frown, some to drown.
You, to wear the gown and crown. See the
clown? Aye, the crown around your brow,
the bough in hand, you stand. Sit! Sit down,
my prince. And in the eye of jeweled scepter,
greet the gleam. Among us now the clown?