they buried her
where the peonies were
laid in a meadow of resting fawn
by her golden huawang
how fast
does moss rot into mildew?
festering, desolate earth
how she wishes to be born anew
the slate was blank
like the stare he gave her
as she was drawn and quartered and torn at the limbs
are they surprised she won’t forgive him?
my golden huawang
i will not live as your white swan
because my ebony fury cannot be caged
watch this eternal night rage
Photo: Irina Iriser on Pexels.com
