The Love of Mary Boleyn
I may as well have no will
It is cruel of God to give women volition
for our entire lives we strangle it
choke it back
wish it to forget everything it wants to say
God should have muted us
made us pretty dolls with painted mouths
that never open
wrapped in velvet and silk
for I will die of blood loss
from biting my tongue
against this need to express want
God should have smothered our desire
for I cannot murder it with my own hands
Let me return to Hever, to my bastard children
so we can walk through gardens
of foxgloves, honeysuckle
and ride our horses
with no destinations
Let me lead my quiet life in Rochford
with my third attempt at love
away from my brother the sodomite
my uncle Lucifer, and my sister
whose only future is the scaffold