Supernal arrival bruised

telescopes. Reverberating

skin. Navigating

the guts of the mislaid ones. 
You earned the crown before

regicide. Children still

pray to keep your dust

from being sold. 
Your flesh and bones feasted

upon. So overstuffed and

starving. Your voice

lodged in their femurs. 
Melodic fingerprints ripple

history. The skin of

your heart,

superglued up. You can’t

be cut – 
your spine held in place,

as they twisted your ribs,

desperate to wash fidelity.

Leaving a flower nebula in

your place.