Poetry by December Lace: The Messenger

Poetry by December Lace: The Messenger


The Messenger


Fairy tale lips will tell you where I’ve been-
forged paths to a distant relative,
they all are- locked up women in towers and cottages
waiting for kisses and bread.
Some heralds are princes, and some are wolves.
I am the only one wearing the color of a target, 
the ancient oaks to watch me,
as I greet woodland creatures waiting 
                                                      to ensnare me, 
eat my skin, pick clean their teeth with my spinal bones

I can’t let them bury my quiet corpse in golden leaves
before I’ve reigned a queendom- I was born with stars in my blood, 
veins that glimmer and spread like the branches overhead
and the leaves, they watch 
as they sever themselves from the treetops 
                                                     to get closer to me

I’ve declared myself queen of the forest, 
propped open my book of tales written with ink 
                                                    blessed by a witch, rid of curses-
the leaves floating down to crown my head, touching me 
once before telling the pile beneath them,
I just touched her, oh! I just touched the Queen! 

And I walk toward painted sunsets, 	leaving shadows behind
my unkissed mouth reciting stories, turning them into decrees
for an arm ready to hold a scepter, a skull fit for a crown

I want them to know 			she is nature
she walks alone and steady, she tore teeth from beasts,
wore them as makeshift jewelry, watched the sky 
change color, opened the door, and 	breathed wishes