By Lao Rubert
She thought life in the castle would be great,
high up in the palace where Anne Boleyn had lived,
but had forgotten to read her history,
was busy with reality TV and those tasks
were the business of her personal Cromwell,
the minister who neglected to inform her
of the bruised eyes of the late wives,
the turret and the rolling heads.
He had forgotten to mention that her beloved was a poster boy,
a plump model of abuse all dressed up in power, a real
royal bully with sycophants using the power of state
to contain his paramour, who happened to be her.
She never saw the beautiful bondage,
never saw the bully buoyed by his armada.
She was too busy purchasing the next gown
when the guillotines went up,
the next reality star took her place and her head fell
swinging into the basket
leaving her body,
fresh perfumed pulp for the tabloids.
Lao Rubert is a poet and advocate for criminal justice reform living in North Carolina. Her poems have appeared in Barzakh, New Verse News, the NC Independent, The Davidson Miscellany, and the Raleigh News and Observer.
Editor’s note: If you are experiencing physical, psychological, emotional, sexual and/or financial abuse, you do not deserve; it is a crime. Please call the National Domestic Violence Hotline for help: 1-800-799-7233.
Image credit: The British Museum.
Lao, this poem is so imaginative. The parallel–well, we’ll see won’t we. Alliteration makes the lines sing. Thanks.