Queen of Nothing

I barely remember how the hues of December
cast sepia waves through her hair. Those words
she first uttered: out here there be monsters,
seemed a plea, not a thing to beware.

A quick realisation: she sailed a maelstrom
mainlining a vein named despair. Lost
within dreams of heroine queens,
I drew heart-shaped clouds in thin air.

It felt like I’d woken when she said yes, you’re broken
but I’ll show you real broke, if you dare. As our ship
ran aground, frayed dreams dragged us down;
to the depths of her fell monster’s lair.

Ryan Stone

April 2, 2024 32

Stillborn

Although science, with clinical wisdom
declared her not yet a person,
a heartbeat argued defiantly
for a night.

We visit the cemetery —
hands entwined, minds
in different hemispheres,
hearts mangled.

In a quiet corner
where the sun lingers late in summer,
where gelid moans soften in winter,
we become broken pieces

of something once much stronger.

Ryan Stone

First published by Red River Review, August 2017

April 1, 2024 54

Unshackled

A breeze
blows in, lifts her
with ease,

this shell.
As I whisper
farewell,

Godspeed.
The ties that bind
recede.

Ryan Stone

April 1, 2024 34

Shades

Her kiss
at dawn is what
I miss

the most –
as day break sings
a ghost

refrain:
love dims to dust
and pain.

Ryan Stone

March 31, 2024 53

Bonnie & Clyde

On a Monday I met her, but should’ve known better-
moon days bode ill for new friends.
Lunar sea tides with light and dark sides
make Monday trysts wane to weak ends.

Aphelion eyes, dark hair and toned thighs
presaged a blue moon ascending.
With a wink and a gun, she blocked out the sun
in total eclipse, never-ending.

Said, taking my hand: you’ve the look of a man
who’d rather not sleep ’til he’s dead.
I refuse to work harder or pay for my Prada,
let’s dance with the Devil instead.

We ran for a time on a dream and a dime,
both stolen and hard to sustain.
At the trail’s grim end, a posse of men
machine-gunned love’s final refrain.

Ryan Stone

First published at Poetry Nook, May 2017.

March 31, 2024 20

Rhyme of the Kingdom

Over the mountains
and down to the sea,
you must come now
if you hope to break free.
No time to mourn
for Autumn’s red bowers;
the light we once made,
now darkness devours.

I can play you
the rhymes of the kingdom,
I can sing you
the songs that you know;
but we must take wing
from this darkened halo –
we must take wing
for a devil wind blows.

Break from your prison
of urban malaise;
run to the ocean,
fly from your home.
I offer no promise
that we’ll make it –
but take my hand
and I’ll never let go.

– Ryan Stone