Once I Was Queen Mab
by Lucien Darjeun Meadows
Call me Mercutio, you say, white-robed body
Leading me toward the garden. July and I
Bare-skinned, shivering. Inside every boy
Is a flower, and yours is night-blooming.
On my knees in the tomatoes' yellow
Blossoms, I hear the old wooden windchimes
From the blue house my family is losing
Come loose over us—all this blue, blue night
Blue wind blue mountains watching as you
Push me down, my back a stripe of moonlight
Clouded by your mouth. My face in the loam
As grassy tops of carrots grow into
My hands—as you quicken, as you cry out,
I tighten my fists around everything green
and pull.
Leading me toward the garden. July and I
Bare-skinned, shivering. Inside every boy
Is a flower, and yours is night-blooming.
On my knees in the tomatoes' yellow
Blossoms, I hear the old wooden windchimes
From the blue house my family is losing
Come loose over us—all this blue, blue night
Blue wind blue mountains watching as you
Push me down, my back a stripe of moonlight
Clouded by your mouth. My face in the loam
As grassy tops of carrots grow into
My hands—as you quicken, as you cry out,
I tighten my fists around everything green
and pull.
Lucien Darjeun Meadows was born in Virginia. His poetry has appeared in West Branch, Hayden's Ferry Review, Quarterly West, Beloit Poetry Journal, and the American Journal of Nursing. An AWP Intro Journals Project winner, he has received nominations for the Pushcart Prize and recognition from the Academy of American Poets. Lucien lives in Fort Collins, Colorado.