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