With the Princess

after the war

I buried my eyes

-in the stones

-in the sky

where her blue body lies

—

They draped her in petals

as white as the moon

to soften the sins

that

leak–

—from her wounds

—-

her secrets

 smell pinkish

like strawberry wine

but

I see

the foul rot

that will

cloak her

in time

With the Princess by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse