You will
be queen when geese fly
Six in a
row across moonlit ladder to sky.
You will
be queen when dust on the wind
Wanders
from sun lit shards to its constellation kin.
You will
be queen when clouds roll back
In a tell
of the truth over fact.
You were
meant to be queen when twilight stepped
From
afternoon’s shadow and secrets kept.
When the
smell of dust after rain
Tickled
knives into a body’s bloodstain
Inking
the floor in a red sun’s ghost hour
Left you abandoned
in the silver wood’s shower.
One day,
when geese call in six
and the
moon brings monsters to mix
You’ll
drip from dewdrops in dawn
Come,
child of swans
Take the cape.
Fly into
a world waiting for shape.
You were
meant to be queen.
It is
time for the spider to untangle the skein.
