the king's heart sliced by a knife
the queen's dreams torn at the seams
waking a widow who wanders the halls
painting in black with skulls and thorns
in strokes of a thousand tears on walls
devotion that aches of poetry in songs

the swallows circle the tower's nests
as a river's rage deadens into streams
of sorrow swirling under spanning arches
the bridge of grief holding the beams
  a fortified prison of pain,
the chapel for a lasting memory
    to a phantom soul
its dark spires piercing the grayest clouds
like the knife that created the hole

words echoing within aimless chambers
"ma mie, priez Dieu pour moi, et ne bougez de la"
in perpetual mass, pious devotion in prayers
  ne bougez de la, ne bougez pas ...
ghostly queen and saintly sane
    Louise de Lorraine