By Nancy Hightower
the day you were anointed
i tasted oil in my mouth, felt
the slipping of kingdoms
from my hand, a slick move
set forth by God to checkmate
my time upon the throne.
if i could only find the right word,
the appropriate sacrifice,
ape my way back into grace,
you would sit at my feet, strumming
songs between the cracks of my sanity.
instead, your face is always before me,
the frantic pulse and pursuit.
even when i hound after you, like hell,
harp strings wrapped around my tongue.
muted words give way;
let me prophesy just once more:
it will be your star which rents it way
across my sky, a bitter and silent canvas.
but no matter princeling,
i die with your music in my ears.
Contributor’s Notes: Nancy Hightower has been published in Gargoyle, storySouth, Prime Number Magazine, Prick of the Spindle, and Word Riot, among others. You can find her at nancyhightower.com and on Amazon. Her novel, Elementari Rising, is available through Amazon in both paperback and Kindle forms.