NEPHART.COM

I read somewhere

that a king, in some nation,

bathed only twice.

Once, obviously, after birth.

And once

by accident.

He was walking over a bridge,

and a guard pushed him into the river.

Historians say it was political.

I think it was nasal.

Maybe the king could no longer mask the smell.

Maybe the guards had tried everything.

Incense.

Flowers.

Loyalty.

Perhaps they chose one scapegoat to push him,

so later they could say,

“Justice was served,”

and also soap.

Maybe the king preferred dry wash.

Maybe perfumes were royal,

and water was for peasants

and fish.

If it were a common man,

people would pinch their noses.

But he was the king.

So they pinched their opinions instead.

Unbothered.

Unwashed.

Unquestionable.

No one dared complain,

because no one wants

to die for deodorant.

Maybe the guard wanted

to save the kingdom.

Maybe he wanted

to save the king.

Once water touched him,

the castle breathed again.

Maybe the king feared water.

Maybe he feared honesty more.

Either way,

I salute the patience of the queen.

She lived closest.