My King and Queen -Jennifer L. Brown

The Thames river bleeds
streams of yellow and orange
under the blistering gold orb.
I see them, my parents,
standing on the Traitor's Gate.
My father drags my mother
along uneven stones
like a prisoner led
by the Royal Guard.
I am unable to understand
their bodies, bodies that always
nestled like spoons with every
embrace are now as foreign
as the ground they stand on.

My Henry, my Anne,
search for me
along cobble lanes
within these fortress walls.
My eyes and ears
sting with uncertainty
of what they are
hearing and seeing.
His words wrap around
her neck like a noose.
her face red as her words
are choked back.

She follows, he leads
past the oval stone chapel
where God,
through jeweled glass,
will pass judgment.
He pauses on the grassy
square, where Anne's head
once rolled at Henry's command.
Her eyes are like hot lava,
his like pale river stone.
Under the Queen's rooms
his voice is a steel blade
cutting through her neck.
The bloody words reach me
and I know
these are eyes I've never seen,
words I've never heard.

The golden globe dips
into the icy river Thames.
The water glows hot
and then turns cool black.
They do not see me
high in the White Tower
watching like black ravens
cawing with clipped wings.
Flightless birds trapped
within these stone walls
where legend says the "raven
must remain lest both
Tower and Monarcy fall."

I do not let them see me,
or know the beheading
I have witnessed nor the blood
that was spilled.
They disappear into the crowd
spilling out onto London streets.
I slip out of the tower
knowing that when I return
to my own castle walls,
where my Henry, my Anne
paint the portrait of love,
that I am the raven
who must remain "lest both
Tower and Monarchy fall."