The Last Queen
--
~ where has it all gone, she said ~
The bulldozers,
They departed.
She who thought
Palaces and sovereignty
Were eternal
Wept.
Dust swirled;
No magnolia breezes,
Only breaths of recollections.
And the Queen wept.
For her orange trees
Blighted rose bushes
Verdant grasses,
Stolen peacocks
Dislocated honeycombs
Stunned rabbits
Gazebos of marble,
Lapis and inlaid ivory.
She wept for
Gazelles which skipped away, unopened tomes
Augerers and puppeteers
Inconsequential holy texts
Which in the end mocked her.
Lily ponds
Lackeys
And incense burners
The Queen wept
For
Her King
Now buried
In a wan corner of
Desolated palace grounds
Drowned in cement and
Sandalwood tarnished medals hammered deep into his black soul, he was
Smothered in
Nasturtiums, mosses
And ivies under tired
Laburnum and jacaranda.
The Queen
Sat down and wept
Not on a jeweled throne,
Not on lofty entitlements
But on the tarry road
Which glimmered with
Heat-crazed mirages of
Rolls Royces and Cadillacs
Ancestral gilded calêche
Her winged Chevy
Glazed like an iceberg
Fugitive offspring and
Four hundred year old tiaras…
