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Nov 2020
You waded through memories
on your throne
All of us look on, smiling,
False courtiers, pretend lovers
To the hag who was queen
Your Tudor eyes crinkle

As you pretend joy
At this false homage
From this worthless court,
All bows and manic grins
shining winter twilight coldly on you

You see Death in their eyes
As once before in your sister's
When her Spanish heart
Sent yours to the Tower

But your head did not roll on its green,
As your mother's once did
For tearing Christendom in two
For daring
To think
That a woman
Could have
A voice

You stroke Queen Anne's jewels
With her fingers,
The ones she gave you
When she loved your father
Despite all it cost the world

We, the victors of the Elizabethean age
Laugh at you, Elizabeth, aged,
****** Queen
Whose lover's letters litter
The back of her tear-stained pillow

When your cold Tudor eyes finally close
And end the dynasty first founded
On a woman's vicious piety,
Know that you,

Lilibeth,
Liquid eyes
that sunk a Thousand Ships,
Tinkling laughter
that tore men asunder,
Iron fist
that quashed a myriad hopes,
will not be mourned.
Alaric Moras
Written by
Alaric Moras  Paris
(Paris)   
539
 
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