Friday, January 2, 2009

queen anne

i was queen,
last night, wrapped
in covers and
with hot tears
rolling off
my skin, this
sentence of death
hanging over my head
before no longer
having one at all.
pitch black,
alone and shaking
still, from
fear and death and
i have the option
of waking, as
she never did,
and the option
of leaving things,
the same,
as is,
and i wonder now
like i did
last night
do i run from her death,
not mine,
gasping with breath
i've never known?


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