Kill the drama queen.
Her sleeved heart makes us cringe
Take cover under a rotting moon
Until her weeping rests
We wish we could see her in
The light of calm
That smells like summer grass
And feels cool blue on our faces
Sweet on our tongues.
But her whirl of thought, so much
More than is necessary
Whips flies into a frenzy
Chases rats to their nests
Quakes the ground until it crumbles
Crawls the skin, rattles the brain
So a seat facing the darkest corner
Is the only refuge.
Myriad battles of wills
Have not stopped her kick
To our groin, to our head, to the
Last living drop
Even to grab and twist her breast
She won’t stop, tramples our words
With leather-booted glee
We hold our rage; such retaliation is futile.
Stalk her quietly, lay in wait
Tempt her with a tiny tragedy
She’ll emerge when a storm brews
Unprepared, unaware
That you are in the room
Bearing the one weapon that can
Eviscerate the drama and
Retain the queen.
Fun will still be had
Joy will be proclaimed
Life and death are but dreams
So comes peace unto our hearts
And hers, in one minted breath
When open-handed blood runs warm
When love without looking begins
The true queen reigns.
7 August 2005
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