The queen of hearts and her spade king,
Torn veil and leopard skin,
Splatter – a matter of mascara
When ruined, means nothing to him.
She drinks the blues and in sequined style
Refuses to dim or die
And makes a bloody mess of him.
Washing off her cheeks, lips, and chin –
She lost a sequin in laundering,
This second matter of a clutter of shiny things,
Is a simple loss.
The queen wins.
Rosa Reid