Saturday, December 1, 2012


I am the daughter of a strangely widowed queen,
the princess second-born of her
who wears the stars as crown
and God as shining shield

against the smoking fire-eaters, beasts
that slither from the sea and drop
like lightning out of sky, their cinder tongues
spitting ugly flags upon our land. My mother says

we’ll only have to hide about three days; she says
the monsters’ crowns, which gleam like diamonds
scattered between fat horns, are only glass.
She says Be strong and wait. But I am weak, and it has been

thousands and thousands of days; I have grown up;
and soon, soon I will be old, and the king
she keeps on telling me about, on his impossibly white horse,
will surely overlook me, if he comes at all.