to where with ink

I've heard of that one,
of all the queens that ever shone, she is the forever bride
wading ankle deep in rainbow oil slicks
trailing her puppy trail, ink and torit grey sludge seeping up
the folds of costumegown,
a beautiful stain with fingers climbing the hollows

i've seen her, after the party as the day breaks across asphalt asphodel
her dress was made for her perfectly careless steps,
bare feet tracing the spine of the horizon
the hard ridges and bumps under the puddle

I've seen her with finger to mouth,
regarding the unseen word, blind all-seeing gaze

following the feel of feet rolling from heel to toe
heel to toe, one in front of the other, where will we go?

Where she goes, round the empty curved arc of flat land against
reddening void, through ankle-deep lukewarm liquid,
covering the surface of the land like skin

her back is to us, we see what she sees
the weight of her sasses to the right and left.
swaying forward and back, but ultimately forward.