How the End Begins
       

My tenure as Queen
Of an excruciatingly brutal
Imagination

Has come now
To its end.

I wanted, my whole life,
To be dead

To the world, Snow-
White,

Weil-like,
Bare and broken
As winter in the Tuileries.

They are removing
My beautiful costumes
From me,

Scouring clean the sweet
Smear of dream.

And now I see

The damaged animal
As it begins

To stir
From beneath

Its chrysalis
Of freezing ice.

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Copyright © 2016 Cynthia Cruz All rights reserved
from How the End Begins
Four Way Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission