Queen of Poems

Poetry surrounds me, a sea of pages, luminous words on high bond paper, my kingdom. And I, a queen deposed, parceling each away. Each boxed, branded, stacked, counted. I have too many, I think though only in this state, only when moving. I write more now. Without a lover to betray with my words, it seems easier to express my self, without someone to not listen to my words, I feel new energy here, new urgency. Repression begets repression, and suddenly tje source of my creative block becomes known: the words I wouldn't let myself say prevented me from saying anything. So joy in my sorrow, a small consolation, losing my love, I regain a poem. What toil, a diamond, incubated for four long years.

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