Monarch

There is always a bigger adversary.

The dust twirled up

Beside the acacia

As sun announced

In crimson audacity

A new measure.

Bellowings and snarlings

Of blackness subdued

By its fresh surveillance.

 

He rose and stretched.

Not wanting to remember

The challenge.

First from the presumptuous

And then from the primed.

Womenfolk waiting the outcome.

Courtier beasts and birds curious.

As monarchy topples.

 

Joints all afire.

Rippings to neck and haunch

Discoloured, throbbing.

And no society.

No mother’s milk.

No sibling’s lunge.

No maiden’s heat.

Just so… sad exile registers.

 

See Redemption’s Spring at the following link

https://sites.google.com/site/conversationabove/conversation-spare

Author's Note

Trying to feel the pain of defeat. The tenuousness of thrones.