like a queen behooved
by the crowd of her peoples
unheard, their shouts
sleep on
in dream she meets her own
life with colors to mourn
she steps with graceful breasts
unshaken by darkening echoes
of men with voices wry
screams run in the corridors
where no man walks
captured in wall holes
their lives and shadows
lingering in air
how great the wind who blows
all across the land
even the queen has no control
the children do not ask
why without a king she lives
out into the field she looks
in a polite dance
with rustling cries
the twisted limbs of trees
giving away their dead
at supper there is plenty
the guests arrive to say
only good things
staring at her clean plate
to her it is all just so
high and alone
atop the tallest point
the queen flies down
under her graceful breasts
her bones will break.
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