Napoleon's Hat

The emperor sits upon his rearing horse
stage draped with blood red curtains,
his face is wooden
a puppet's face
his horse a statue
a theatrical prop
lacking the grotesqueness of Guernica
lifeless as a five centime piece.

This world is closed as any
scene in high theatre,
frozen, stylised movement
action without consequence
passionless
remote as a suburban street.

Napoleon's hat drifts above the scene
removed from the stage,
a discarded relic
just another lonesome cowboy
his blood is cold,
cold as greasepaint when the curtain falls
the lights die
and the performance is over.

(From a painting by Fiona Jeffrey, 1994)