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The Queen

The figment is the same as the sadness sometimes.

Wild gold and dark red. The color of snow under a streetlamp.

Or of smoke pluming from a house

under a white sky in the morning. The color

of a queen. I try to keep her, even while she is leaving

and even after I know she has left. I shout,

“Are you there, are you even there?” meaning God

but also Liliana. I want to ask her

which is worse: dying

or being dead. And then I can see her floating away

as down a hill of ice. With her she has one half

of my whole being. She holds me high above her head

and I wave to myself like a flag.

from To See the QueenFind it in the library

Copyright © Persea Books 2013
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, Inc.
on behalf of Persea Books.

Published in Allison Seay Poems

This program is supported in part by a grant from the Idaho Humanities Council, a State-based program of the National Endowment for the Humanities.

Any views, findings, conclusions, or recommendations expressed in this (publication, website, exhibit, etc.) do not necessarily represent those of the Idaho Humanities Council or the National Endowment for the Humanities.

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