QUEEN OF THE WORLD
Lady,
your hard throne lurches
on
our careening lives.
What sovereign sits
so
perilous on exaltation, Mary,
as
yours, borne on your children’s gaucherie?
Summon
to homage all the painted fans
of
eyelashes, impel the exhibited knees
down
to obeisant dust before your slender
security
of love, queen!
“Queen!”
a husky-throated
world
will sing on faltering pitch forever
because
you dare to speed our sweating highways,
ride
our air pockets, swim our brine of tears.
Filigree
lady, you outwear the leather
of
disillusion. You unsnarl despair
to
hope’s bright skein. No perilous
exaltation
is
yours who sit in state our blundering.
Mother M Francis PCC
Friar. January 1969. Used with
permission
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