A two-story, red brick
set on the edge of town
was our castle, tall cedars,
like a moat, separating us
from unwanted onlookers
Strategically placed intercoms
tracked our movements, and
walls that moved revealed
forbidden spaces – passageways
that led to covert rooms
Our King was not benevolent,
and nor was our mother his queen –
for the woman he worshipped,
who held his heart’s throne,
dwelt in the shadows, and reigned.
Elizabeth, she was, regal
and bejeweled, long white gloves
brandishing a silver holder,
red lips blowing rings of seduction,
her presence a disquieting menace
She would not stir from our fortress
and none of us would speak of her
lest our kingdom might crumble
Our castle was two-storied: one
a man’s the other his alter ego.
(Written for Laura’s Manic Mondays 3-way prompt: castle)
One Woman's Quest 