Wednesday, July 20, 2016


Hear, oh hear, here, you feel privileged
walking inside the head of a king,
who loved mirrors more than he was willing to grant
a glance to the woman he married

like all men,he glided in the halls,
swiftly as if by magic, dusting
of chandeliers in promise for a life cut
out by the revolution of the sick and the hidden

raging fists that never found a hand to hold
an oil-lamp to warm the bed of a hay on which
the wrists rested, using one name
for three hundred faces

hear, oh hear, here lived a queen
who had blood the color of water
ordering  biscuit in exchange for hunger
adding sugar to a mixture that had no flour

because stomachs lined with butter
cannot tell the difference between
a good fruit and a bad seed
so buttering becomes an answer

Between the trees,
there's music, classics played in honor
of those who listen more than they speak
relatively a few

hear, oh, hear
here was the agreement that ended a war
that started around the world because someone lit a fire and
didn't know where to go with its flames

hear, oh, hear
the rich lines of rustle of trees,
the golden embroidery on the wall
reminds you of the heights reached
before an ominous fall
masks drop, kings live and die,
the architecture lives to tell the tales, all of them.

No comments:

Post a Comment