#053/100 Empress

inspired by Billie Williams' 'sand patterns'

for her you would breathe dry sand until her calves
draw you in. such concentric patterns of a dark hole
awaiting--scratch that black ink on paper, stamps of
a lifelong jail at the end of the maze. quill your name
your schizophrenia on her legs, flapping up & down
to squeeze you into a marital nest. it's growing thorns
& bloodstains are crawling up the wall, to next door
your neighbor Empress Dowager. the mother to end all
mothers, on duty to watch you misdeeds. she'll order
the burning of your quatrains--poetry you spun when
breathing dry sand was a drug, & you had no idea that
purgatory would not cleanse but fucking last forever.