Diana's Mirror

poem

Be silent, said the guardians
It’s the autumn
It’s king killing time
And you’re not much of a king

You stink of killer, and of coward
So he shut the fuck up
And got on with it,
stayed the course, did the work

let go balloons, reached the lake,
wrote his things, paused to listen
dove the freeze, hoped for moon
the wavelets sly, and black and white

went under, beseeching she who is,
broke the black blade surface,
clocked his stick, marking the shore
headlamp’s red eye hanging wary

As he walked back,
the cold a hot thrill,
she came over the mountain,
full, for the hunt.
He found the bough,
danced his chant
hours swallowed
Until dawn
when the driver beckoned
to a gritty day
But days he fears not
Nor does he nights
He slayed the priest
he is the priest
he bears the scar
Kings go and come