The Queen

 

 

The tiny island sags downstream

Whitefish sunbathe under the gold shine, shiny wet 

Their blush a shade darker than her cheeks

The hands on her once hardworking wrist

Stop— melt into peach skin

 

And she holds her breath

 

The low roar rumble of the land

Vibrates under her toes peeking in the green,

Puddles the once still glass lake—a seagull flaps away home

And all at once and much too fast 

The little girl’s watch awakens 

 

And she swallows her breath

 

The sun still has miles to go till its bed

But she can hear the song on its final verse

The white rabbit in her lap once fast asleep 

Under her gentle touch frets— its ears tickle her palm

Her frail fingers hold on just a tad tighter 

 

And she fears her breath

 

As if she let go the sun would run off 

As well and like a balloon held by its string 

Drag her from her secluded kingdom

How could she leave her crown and go? 

The kingdom needs a queen.

But her mother’s voice rings from the kitchen

 

And Alice holds her breath