Marie Antoinette

I will turn my back upon the rest
as a pillow to hold my head
and watch the blade as it descends
to see its journey as it begins
to end my life
and give me wings
to find my way to the house of kings . . .
if you despise the way I laugh
when like a child I sing and dance
above the tree tops near the moon
where eagles rest
on aerie nests
oblige the skies with silhouettes
I sprinkle dreams
with dusts of endless gold
and rainbows to fold
their sheaths around the blade
as I ascend
or perchance descend
those steps of fire . . .
into the Hades
I do not know . . . nor do I care . . .
I merely stopped here
for a while . .
until I was forced to retire. . .


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you are the writing on my wall
the shadow
scribbling dusty marks
branches bowing
strong and tender . . .
charcoal smudges left
like footprints on the brow of time .. .
you are the laughter in my skies
clouds scrubbing moonlit faces
stars whispering
like flames dancing
candlelit sky my birthday cake . . .
blazing on the horizon . . .
 

Privilege . . .

they bake their bread on the backs of your seed . . .
                      and make your cities crumble . . .
they sit in black suits
                                   smiling
             with concrete dust
                                   filtering through their teeth
sifting out your bones . . .
                        to make their gold . . .
                                                   it lies cold and curdled
                                                         beneath their thrones . . .  imagined fires
                          unlit by the stillness of your heart . . .
                                                                                your dreams un-mentored
                                                                 are flavored with the weft of their expectations while
                          their road, endless and dark with shards of scorn
        and yours  . ..  have ended
beneath the bridge of time
                                        as it sinks into the river
of loss . . .