The Queens New Clothes
Its not
a barren womb
Its a
snowfield in the first days of spring
Its not
my hair that's shedding
Its my
death that's shrinking
Its not
my teeth that are falling
Its my
chrysalis opening to the sun
And its
not a bandage, or a sling
Though
you may talk of such conceited things
Its just
the last, long hour before the dawn
The
queen is dead
Long
live the queen
