My Lady

Bianca Lyons, full length, standing, facing le...
Bianca Lyons, full length, standing, facing left; leaning against pillar (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A diamond noose stole the breath from her chest,
Where ribs caved beneath creaking whalebone corsets
And her hands lay useless against the curve of her waist.
An hourglass standing with each grain assigned,
A time and a place, a husband, no thought for her mind.
To be instructed and moulded into icy precision
Because in her heart the royal blue ran in vain
And her prison was forged before birth by name.

Fairy tales make pretty the twists of her life
As she’s wound into tapestries, the good, obedient wife.

Let those who weave take for granted stillness in her lips
And forget to check the eyes which dip from sight,
For those who’s power falls too far for her to reach
Means she must hide hide her only freedoms in deceit.
She’ll whisper beneath men’s ears and lace their tongues
With words that from their own have not be strung,
For what do women in titles’ prisons have?
But the babes from further shackles brought,
And hopes that scheming years shall dull the locks
To free the blood of those whose irons are yet to be wrought.

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