Kingdom, Gone

bouncy … finger curls dangle like ornaments from her brow, kissed by a breeze like the hem of daddy’s flag, casket-draped, shaped to mask it in cold redemption - contempt for the valor wasted on a country she can’t even pronounce … no fury, hath hell, like a child’s tears - smears etched on her cheek in the blood of strangers, a flood of dangers that stole her backyard kingdom’s throne - the only lap she trusted … wee, rusted toys sprout from the lawn where once upon a time she dallied with her handsome prince, tender grasses tickling their chins as they counted clover, sharing stories over biscuits and tea - mommy, content to play the hand-maiden, heavy-laden with spoons and saucers, (and whispered instructions), now … the grass is overgrown and weedy, a needy house and yard aching for the strong arms that kept them … no longer moving the earth, but feeding it … all those gifts, sifted - lifted by fingers that linger on the words last said in haste … such worldly waste, and not one damned caliphate, (late for the party), not one red rose, bled of its color, not one single God, promises as fodder, betrayed - debt now paid - can ever tell her … why. Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, January 17, 2023