Author: arialigi

Would that she would bear it, under the blarney breach,
And in the surf- pain swear it was greater than
Not lesser than the seed.

Could she hold it in; could she tear it from its bunker;
Where the nestled heartbeat,
Half-formed, half torn, palpitating with discordant measure,

Would this nearness to her own, constant inside
The queenly throne, keep it safe from the terror,
Coffin lacquered and blackened bones.

Shadows now enthrall & leave us wondering in vacant halls,
Where choice is a distant call, we make in whispers,
Wishing for answers from that silent chamber.

Copyright © 2018 Aria Ligi Poetic Justice Books, and on Amazon