There is no Prince

You are no prince riding to my rescue.
The castle is long breached, and I still sleep,
covered over by nettles, or roses–
it does not matter which, as long as there is that sting
to thread blood in cursive across skin,
a language of no, though it is unspoken
and sounded in bloom.

Bring me no roses, as I cannot hold
their color of loss, of remembering
the hot metal stink of what drives us,

I will save myself from them, from us,
from you; broken glass
the only vase I own.

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About Susan L Daniels

I am a firm believer that politics are personal, that faith is expressed through action, and that life is something that must be loved and lived authentically--or why bother with any of it?
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12 Responses to There is no Prince

  1. Powerful, Susan. Excellent use of those hard-k consonants for effect. Subtly punchy.

  2. Spiced with c’s like bits of pepper…

  3. amazing work, Susan. especially those last 3 lines

  4. Trent Lewin says:

    Excellent, Susan. Excellent.

  5. Jeremy Nathan Marks says:

    “A language of no.” I really like that line. What would form your language of yes, Susan?

    I’d be interested in reading that too.

Comments are closed.