Two Poems

Queens Have Died

her blonde hair turned dusty,
curls clumped, head tilt intact,
friendly, a lot of charm,
she was ordering
off the same menu, but
little bits; the same things,
but little bits. she took
with appetite, she put
the food in a black bag,
which meant she’d eaten it,
a dab of potato.
i said, ‘you have a good
appetite,’ pleasing her,
putting myself at ease.
‘yes, i do,’ she agreed,
‘especially considering
only my long leg bone
exists of me now; my
...