The Coronation Coin

I could piss upright with the boys
carelessly spraying my scent

or ride side-saddle,
worshipped but unbalanced.

I could stride the boardroom
spiky with spunk

or swell with botox
pouting empty air.

I could wed the gilded cage
desperately yummy

or crush with power
all hedge-fund, no flowers.

Yes, I could sell out,
be a queen buzzing

in an empty hive,
no honey.

The five shilling coin,
you left me, Granda

bears faith and truth, so I,
I choose a different crown.

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