Queen in Exile (for Adrienne Rich)

It does no good to say
“I owned this place!”
“They all fought under my banners!”

I cannot loom armies.
I cannot embroider pots of gold.
I can only exchange the glow of my sons’ birth rite
for old warriors’ dreams of glory
and the gentleness of my fading charms
for their allegiance.

Those who are left
must not see my mended garments,
must bask in the past’s reflected glory.
I smile, wear tattered cloth of gold,
and dispense alms in this strange city.

While my boys polish steel
I seduce secret councils
and court the enemies of my enemy.

I could ride forth into battle,
hair streaming, bare breasted,
screaming “death unto my enemies!”
and be crushed.

Only steel can fight steel.
Only gold can buy gold.

I hide my late nights,
mending, constantly mending,
weaving other people’s greed into dreams,
saving my tears until they are hard as diamonds,
to be ground into poison.

While my boys grow into men,
their followers live on this show.

I will not lose myself in hope.