For a cold world

January 24, 2008
By Katherine Thierry, Walnut Creek, CA

All truth and at the same time
All hazy lies.
Lost but not alone
Lost is my home,
My home: my throne
Queen bee
Sits while the beggars beg
marry me

will she not see?
Will she not see the homeless weep?
Will she never find a home to sleep?
My pinnacled heart runs away after the storm,
And my sky clouds gray over emptiness.

My queen rules
A barren desert land.
And my king
Is any man I make him
On a throne
Until I take him down
And replace him with a satisfied other.
However, my mother
And father and sister and brother
Close their hands on the dime
And my checkerboard land becomes
A sea of wine.
Cold and all for drinking.


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