Queen’s Rook (poem)

 

 

Queen’s Rook

 

Dear fortune cookie

Dear oraclooky

Dear vestal sister

Dear rad transistor

Dear tarot reader

Dear shallow feeder

Dear mass persuader

Dear draft evader

Dear Lilibella

Trutha tella

Tell this girl who killed her fella

What to do now

What to do

 

I mean it, Mother May, Aunt Mary Jane, Miss Dandelion, Sugar Pop

Whatever pseudo-soubriquet your column puts up top

I want to know

 

I want to know before I shove him

Down the stairs, one thought I’ve had

I’m not a gun gal, but I like a razor on his wrists in bed

It’ll look like suicide

 

First he said it didn’t matter  And and and

I know what did. He knew my born soul, knew my underclothes

Knew when we drove to the beach and laid out

Knew when we got high, and the high was the kink

that the kink was the high

But he knew another thing. That I’m human and I loved him

 

Him I loved, he wanted HER. Who I know from Artsy is nothing but trash

Talk. Everywhere. (Like the Eagles say…) All the time.

Who stole for him and then (I laugh), took his cash and skipped

I said to him, “So we’re poor”, and he cried

When someone you want to be your god

Is crumpled up over Rainy, Rainy

You want to see him dead

 

Ladies, that is my swan song

No money of my own

I’m looking for a cyanide pill

I’ll keep it in the heel of my shoe

Til the cops kick in the door

 

 

 

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Raisin and Treey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(2024, Stephanie Foster)