The Restaurant Of Kings

A sardonic observation of powerful men dining with their wives, where the ritual of ordering wine briefly reveals — in one second of shyness — the survivor, the killer, or the dealer beneath the outward grace.

A surveillance portrait of powerful men dining, watched with a detective's patience. 'Regardless of age / They act old taking chairs with their wives,' their 'black eyes are long' as if 'in a Mass,' and the 'skirts and tables' around them form 'a chorus they will not mention.' Their 'outward glance of grace' betrays the resumes underneath - 'of the survivor? of the killer? of the dealer?' - men 'Who no one ever knew, / until it came time to order the wine.' The whole poem balances on a single observed flicker: these untouchable figures 'were shy, / exactly one second before the observation.' That one second of self-consciousness, caught just before they noticed they were being watched, is the only fracture in the performance, and the restaurant of kings turns out to be a room where power can be seen flinching.