She Never Said, "Let Them Eat Cake"

She balances diamonds
the size of marbles on
her spider-thin fingers,
rents her neck out to
strings of pearls and
chains of dull gold
and silver, pushing
loose strands back into
her hair which brushes
the tops of the door
frame when she walks,
lifting her skirts to
reveal silken shoes
decorated with rubies,
with a crown dressed
in sapphires upon
her head, all while
her country starves.