The Queen of Hearts

Undead Poetry

Poem

 

The Queen looks down, her tower piercing clouds,
She beckons them to leave the woodland’s shrouds.
She rests her palms on panes of moonlight glass.
Come out, young dead, bare feet upon the grass.
It’s here that they can finally talk of love
in rooms without such doors or roofs above.
Her flower brushes them across the cheek.
She holds their gaze until they cannot speak
and lost in moon light, deafened by her call,
they wonder if they ever should have lived at all.

 

more by NOELLE CURRIE

photograph by Greg Becker

 

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Noelle Currie

I have been writing short fiction and poetry for ten years. I recently completed the second of two novels that are currently unpublished. I was the winner of The Book Doctor’s Pitchapalooza in 2013 and recipient of the Gold Medal in poetry in the Tunxis Academic and Art Challenge in 2009. I submit poetry and short fiction pieces to the creative writing website ImageCurve.com weekly. I graduated from the University of Connecticut in 2013 with a degree in vocal performance. My second love is singing opera.

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