I cannot bear the sun.
It makes me sing
and pierce my lungs.
We're left with all the kings but one.

The ballroom has no door,
the windows tall,
stars claim the floor.
I should have guessed they'd ask for more.

I take of it and eat.
I need not search.
Nor take a seat.
For human meat lies at our feet.

There was no room to dance.
They ask for more
with sideward glance,
then claw the floor with paws and hands

Their overcoats are torn.
The blue turns red
the hunger fed.
And roses break the stone with thorns.

I cannot bear the sun.
For dare it rise
we might realize
that no one in this room has won