Queen Kia-Ora

​

You know no rainbows

spread thin on your metal bed

powdered with ash, as if the squashed orange of your whisky

made your face
fed your blood

which now trickles for old time’s sake

through body tinier than purse

producing
40 glittering coins only I run with, spend

instead

of allowing your

living, furling knuckles to cradle
this girl, sap raise
and now,

then
the rot goes deeper than my teeth
it disintegrates your sacred bones and the many

scarf-like breasts that readied to hug my

cut stem,

silent as they

removed

our

treading

carbon

Artist's response: Yulia Ikehata