The queen swallows poison
from the silver thimble
around her neck,
but the king trusts the stroke
of the executioner’s ax
will be clean and true.
Reports of miracles reach the capital
from throughout the kingdom:
love suicides returned to life,
God's voice turned to baby’s babble.
Exhausted celebrants,
stinking of drink,
sleep in the streets.
Now the secret police know
who the insomniacs are,
and the insomniacs themselves
just how interminable the night is.
Howard Good, New York, USA
Howie Good (goodh@newpaltz.edu), a journalism professor at the State University of New York at New Paltz, is the author of four poetry chapbooks, Death of the Frog Prince (2004) and Heartland (2007) from FootHills Publishing, Strangers & Angels (2007) from Scintillating Publications, and the forthcoming The News at 11 from Right Hand Pointing.
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ReplyDeleteVery vivid imagery. I like it.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful! I love the images of the king and the thimble; I also love poetry that plays around with historical themes.
ReplyDeleteThanks for posting this poem!
Ah, history and faith written in perfect words!
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