The sky’s tide has brought waves of stratus fractus.
The upper ocean is dyed grey,
enshrouding the cerulean shore.
My king and his court are just as dreary
as this mirror of fogged lake,
so I throw up my rope and lasso the waves.
The sea turns to foam as I recede the waters
from Heaven’s azure beach,
and without fail, the foam dissolves.
I call in the dwarf, he calls in the luteman,
we smile and romp and clap our hands,
and push the stage forth to welcome the crowd.
My liege’s red robe twists while he spins
and sparks fly from his jewelry.
The court succumbs to his decadent spell.
Their laughs crescendo to cacophony.
Their smiles bare their rabid teeth.
I bow to my liege and let him lead.
Knowing their eyes have strayed from me,
I remove my porcelain grin.
Towing leftover dread behind, I retire to my chambers.
The war declaration lays on my desk,
and I know the court knows what I do.
I let them drink and dance through the night.
How many will live through tomorrow?