i do not
process pain
or trauma
i refine it
into gemstones
which i slip
into the brass
bells affixed
to my jester’s
hat before
drunkenly stumbling
just ahead of
one queen’s loyal
royal headsman
before tumbling
into the next
court where a
rogue can touch
her majesty’s
forbidden treasures
until overstaying
his welcome once more
new bells ringing
a hollow accompaniment
to nearly poetic prose
yesterday’s agonies
are tomorrow’s concern
today is for making
the grandest mistakes