King of Spades

The first poem in a series I started writing, taking inspiration from looking at a deck of playing cards, specifically the artwork of "face" cards.

His eyes lifeless

as are his doppelganger’s

Face white as his clenched weapon.

Mutation of a monarch.

He looks to the past

his brother to the future.

Yet the two hold

no authority today.

Tomorrow may be

different. It shifts

along with their respective partners. They climb

so high to fall

 

from their kingdom.

It crumbles, the fires of war

strike from inside. Led by the eldest

son and his madness. He claims

to be a god. The queen carries

his seed and support. The bishops

cry blasphemy but no one hears.

The kings know

 

Even with their twin swords

they will always be shuffled,

like everyone

like everything

into obsolescence.