Extra Red Wine
The White Queen: A Poetry Collection
March 10, 2020
Wine and Cyanide
Poured into a glass
The cook had made a plan
She’d kill the queen
And steal the jewels
For the maiden needed fame
Her heart depended on this dear plan
For it would shatter if it failed
As she would lose the maiden
Along with any chance at her hand
So she poured the glass
Delivered it too
Bloodying her hands
Not a wink of sleep that night
As she waited for screams
Echoing from the queen’s chamber
But not one came
Not that day
But one had risen soon
The queen herself
Shouted and roared
As a martyr lay upon her floor
“How did he get here
He spoiled my plan”
“The queen will rule another day
As my sweet maiden gets away”
This martyr, no, this man
Will not be forgotten
Not by one at least
The rest of the world
Will not know the pain
Ingrained within the cook that day
The Queen’s life remaining
He will be unappreciated still
Most of the world will be unchanged
But a new ice grew
Within the soul
Of that bloody-handed cook