Erotica/Revolution

by Arthur Clark Kennedy

Revolution

My bed still bears the imprint of thy form,A faint perfume still hangs upon the air,Like dying roses, but no longer warmThis breast so wont thy loveliness to wear.

Mere outline of what was, the skeletonOf former joyfulness denied me now;The shrine is empty and no queen uponMy heart's throne reigns with love-anointed brow.

The queen is dead. Set up another queen.Nay, for their reign is over, and I canNo more support such despots. They have been.I'll rule myself, a state republican.