Coronation Poem by binti laye

Woven beads decked on my temple
Each plucked from distant mountains
Beneath the crown sweats trickle
Slithering back into my scalped head

Should they devour the fountains
Villagers left to squalor
Ravaged was their parlor
Smiling guests shackled by the ankles

Will the pull on my neck bear my head
The curtains may have fallen
The pillage pricks the iris of my haven
With blisters shattered heart

Threads, fasten the beads is your portion
Hold them apiece to dazzle the trails
Not my heart you labor to drain
Of these measured pulses I labor to strain

Kingmaker you glittered at your function
Unknown to you I swallowed the trinkets
Let loose in your anxiety