Avril 14

You are a prophet and I am a queen,

according to a particular text.

I did not come here to impress you;

I came to get s**t done. Though,

if you fixed your canid eyes on me,

I wouldn’t look away.

 

The air is teeming with minuscule living things,

our river is swollen and awake

and I am so proud today.

I waste my time, back bent over my scrolls, sore.

You said something just now

that reminded me of a perfect song.

 

I want you

to pause before you go,

dip low

and kiss the nape of my neck, just once.

I promise you, you’d stop my heart

but I’d keep my regal composure.

You can keep your music-box mystery.