The royal card
you’re a hundred the boy reminds
a hundred what she asks inclined
he has her papa’s equine scowl
but hair she’s spun or eyelids kissed
she cannot find
someone drops and condescends
blow out your candles then
salmon, wine, mascara, smoke
she wishes them away (or dead)
she cannot say
behind the candles laughter dazzles
cajoling smiles and cake on knees
where branches joined had once been loose
her trunk is solid, her neck unfree
she cannot turn
they think thoughts keep them breathing
passions, loves, ideas and time
but life burns down to a drubbing routine
an impossible shrug and a longing
she cannot mime
Since a child in the 80s, Karen Hodgson-Pryce has returned again and again to writing poetry and short stories. She started submitting her work in Autumn 2015. So far, her poetry been published in mslexia and Open Mouse.