Granite walls without grout, 
one slab, no bricks, erected 
tall and long, concentric circles 
starting tight around my heart, 
the widest one right beneath 
soft skin the world sees 
my faux armor – I found this rock, 
mined it myself, alone, as I was trained 
to be for eternity. My makers 
were dedicated, but they couldn’t make 
outsiders welcome me in 
cultivated gardens. Wooden fences 
had padlocked gates. I did them better. 
Not locked out. Locked in. I chose this. 
I talked with myself often. I chose this. 
My untouched hands dragged along my cave.  
I chose this. 

Sudden seismic shaking startles, 
but I hold my ground. Strong 
foundations will not crack. Stoic 
expression, not expecting novelty, 
simply waiting for another day. 
I am but a bug, a lonely little ant 
in a farm without a friend. I work in spite 
of isolation. In favor, without hope… 
but the granite starts to crack, 
crumbling like the sand inside glass 
I feel. Nothing is enough 
to keep me safe. What boot descends 
to finally crush my insignificance? 

But a queen! has come to take me 
to the grandest garden I never saw 
from afar, better than all those 
I was barred from. He is here 
to set the crown he carried 
from her royal majesty’s corpse 
upon my own head, adorned to assume 
his place as my drone, my loyal liberator. 
He serves me not because I demand 
or deserve it, but for his own pleasure. 
I eagerly please him. Easy to do 
when shackles are broken, 
imaginary walls torn down to reveal 
the corpulent heart within, still beating 
furiously waiting all this time 
to love. Crawling over fences 
together, dining on stranded fruit. 

This poem and others can now be found in the 2023 Valentine’s Day anthology Smitten, published by QuillKeepers Press! Buy it here