Hiding in her Sgiort

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

I dinnae care about the ginger Queen

Of Scots, that redhead Mary.  Why should I?

She isn’t very much my Hippocrene

(However spelled in Scots).  I cannae sigh

About her, not about her wig when it

Fell near the chopping block and not about

Her sliced off head, her throat, how it was slit

With three sharp strokes, or how lips tried to shout

For fifteen minutes after, dinnae care

About how gray her hair was in this mess.

I care much less about Queen Lizzy’s hair

Years later.  I really could nae care less.

  I care a wee, wee bit about the hurt

    The queen’s wee pet tholed deep inside her skirt.

© Phillip Whidden