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The brittle queen

Way up there
on that hill of yours;
that most hard-won ivory tower.
Hiding there
behind your perfect guise
of convention and propriety
 
I am the solitary wolf
who lurks at the fringe of your estate;
the one you hear at night
howling at the moon
while you’re wishing you could sleep.
 
I am the one you banished
to the land of lesser than
down at the bottom of your hill.
 
I don’t blame you.
I would have done the same.
I know that what i didn’t say,
and couldn’t know to say,
was always burning in these naked eyes.
 
You and I both know
the secrets buried on that hill
out in that crumbling cabin
just there out of sight
behind your mansion's facade
 
Why is it still standing ?
Everything just as it was
on the day it was abandoned
so many years ago.
Nothing taken.
Nothing stirred.
Nothing sacred.
Like a carcass left to rot.
 
Like the poor decaying ghost,
of something you refuse to part with,
that you cannot part with,
that you will die before you part with.
and never to be spoken of,
or it wouldn’t be a secret anymore.
 
now as i linger on the fringe
of your precious estate.
i can see that what’s destroying
your decrepit cabin with it’s secrets
is spreading now to everything and all around it
 
o matter how you clutch and scheme
to maintain your brittle reign
what it is that brings the cabin to the ground
now takes you with it
and you see that what was lost
far outweighed anything you might have gained
 
why i linger here at all now
is just to let you know i cared
and this lonesome woeful howl
is not for you, not anymore
 
it’s for the spirit of that cabin
and the memory of what once was
and a solemn hope and prayer
that what stands naked in it’s private dying
might be mercifully surrendered
to it’s rightful sacred grave

(2013)

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