Evenings at Versailles

Carved German clock sings golden knocks

at every hour; how Marie cowered

like a flower wilted in fall or painted doll;

Outside hot mouths cried words uncouth,

and asked for blood at doors; rain and gore.

The little ones sucking their thumbs and

pulling frills, counting clock's trills—

think of foothills, and small birds on blouses' sleeves;

berry laden leaves.

Too young afeared, how virtue's smeared

By crooks crying justice and drying bulbous tears.

Operatic fire sings for noble kings;

Hearken, l'oisillon, to the people's coup.

Blood once blue has soured red;

coats the dead but burns in you.

How you grew amongst the gardens,

grant of pardons, the life unhardened.

The only task approaches; darling, ask

why your subjects abandoned their protections

and in stead threw their bread

and took Mother's head.