(Originally published Mookychick July 8, 2017)

He makes her wear the crown. Her maids remove
the rest: a corset, crinoline undone
by agile hands. Their gamine giggles proof
she’s right to shudder at what has begun.
He makes her stand and wait. A bob
of hexagons of pearls and rubies sharp
against pale temples harmonize the throb
below so new, beneath a virgin heart.
He makes her kneel. It’s what she’s bred to do
obey this man appointed and blessed
by God and elders. Her lips and blue
eyes open to what bliss he may bequest.
Two knees that never kneeled before today,
his kingdom such a paltry price to pay.

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