A Queen's WoeA Poem by Anne BathoryA tale of Marie Antoinette in the beginning of her marriage.Like snow, The powder rains through the air, A crown no more than word, Of perfumed whims and silver tongued remarks, A true husband I should seek, My own no more than a portrait, Whose oily eyes and crooked teeth, Bare no more a rush than a watered down wine, For all my silks, And wigs of spun gold, His eyes travel past thee, Unto the stables where a fertile mare waits, And my pale bosom turns to a pointed sword, Covered with roses and a fool's jig, Plagued by the ever looming cross of a fearsome God, A marriage I fear, Shall never consummate. © 2013 Anne BathoryFeatured Review
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