![\"\"](\"http:\/\/www.heroicfantasyquarterly.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/queen_poem2.jpg\")
<\/a><\/p>\n<\/p>\n
A queen defeated, robes in tatters, crown<\/p>\n
crushed under the conqueror’s boot,<\/p>\n
stands with clasped hands before the altar<\/p>\n
and listens to the devils laugh. Plots<\/p>\n
beyond humanity’s reach have twined<\/p>\n
around her, until her world reels<\/p>\n
before an onslaught of burning and blood,<\/p>\n
so she has come to beseech the gods<\/p>\n
to whom she made sacrifices in years<\/p>\n
of plenty. Silent, they stare down<\/p>\n
at her from frescos crumbling<\/p>\n
on the vaulted ceilings, their eyes<\/p>\n
focused on some truth beyond mortal<\/p>\n
miseries. The queen draws a breath,<\/p>\n
lifts her hands so the ragged hems<\/p>\n
of her sleeves catch dust motes<\/p>\n
dancing golden in the shadowed<\/p>\n
cathedral, and turns to face<\/p>\n
doom, haggard and hungry like she<\/p>\n
and far more powerful, taloned<\/p>\n
fingers tapping together, teeth bared<\/p>\n
in grins of merriment.\u00a0So then,<\/em><\/p>\n they say, gazes calculating<\/p>\n the last copper coin of her fears,<\/p>\n Shall we make a pact?<\/em>\u00a0She sighs<\/p>\n as a feather drifts from above<\/p>\n and lands on a devil’s shoulder,<\/p>\n igniting and burned to ash<\/p>\n between breaths.\u00a0What<\/em>, she asks,<\/p>\n can you offer? Peace? Freedom?<\/em><\/p>\n All the devils laugh.\u00a0A good jest,<\/em><\/p>\n the first among them says,<\/p>\n and the air fills with the scent<\/p>\n of brimstone, hot and acrid.<\/p>\n Let us assist you<\/em>. She moves closer<\/p>\n to a stained-glass window<\/p>\n and stoops to pick up a charred<\/p>\n bone beneath a pew.\u00a0Can you bring<\/em><\/p>\n the dead back to us? I think not. But<\/em><\/p>\n I will take vengeance, in lieu of pity.<\/em><\/p>\n The devils look amongst themselves,<\/p>\n for pity is an unfamiliar word. She bares<\/p>\n her wrist, lets one of them scratch a vein<\/p>\n until she bleeds, and signs away heaven<\/p>\n for a measure of blood. Somewhere<\/p>\n a bell tolls, dim and heavy with dread<\/p>\n as the damned depart, a bargain<\/p>\n to fulfill. The queen awaits their return,<\/p>\n muscles already clenching<\/p>\n at the thought of an eternity of pain.<\/p>\n Or maybe her still-human flesh<\/p>\n recognizes strangers’ voices raised<\/p>\n in dismay, in agony, justice<\/p>\n a shiver across chilled skin,<\/p>\n a chorus like angels dying<\/p>\n in the fading light of her last day.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n ________________________________________<\/span><\/p>\n Jennifer Crow\u2019s work has appeared in a number of print and electronic venues over the past quarter-century. Her short poem, \u201cHarold and the Blood-Red Crayon\u201d was a co-winner of the 2023 Rhysling award from the Science Fiction Poetry Association. Curious readers can catch up with her on Threads @kythiaranos, or on Bluesky @writerjencrow.bsky.social.<\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n