as king

as king, do you ever knock?

as king, do you enter her tower

before she has even let her hair down?

or let it grow long enough at all?

as king, is all that ripens, blooms and flourishes,

just for you to pick?

hanging from the tree

rooted in the paradise you claim to own?

as king, do you treat her like

the medium rare deer on your plate?

like something to be covered in sauce,

to be devoured, like prey?

as king, do you ever mistake

greed for lust?

boorishness for decency?

and bluntness for sincerity?

as king, does your keen eye drift

in boredom as I write,

onto another soft-curved creature,

hedged in the wilderness you roam?

as king, do you ever call out for the queen?

just to hear her voice, hear what she has to say?

and when she answers back,

will you listen, too?

as king, can you sit tight, tighter?

as king can you pull yourself together?

as king, can you surrender to

asking?

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