Lincoln's Throne Room published at zygoteinmycoffee.com in 2004 Children skipping past coffins, go to tug their mother’s sleeve. Walk down the rows, don’t fret— just a message to the Right elite. Beautiful concrete, polished stone, and bronze gazes. Fist in my throat, and I don’t even recognize a name, the power of perspective. Veterans in wheelchairs, features stuck in oxygen masks— gaze upon your tribute. Stories and tears, funds disappear, had to skip the pill to pay for the gas to get here.