Sturdy as Home Grown Tomatoes

The Candy Palace

She came to the throne because she thought
it was time. The exact hour before the alarm.
Born to the Kingdom, she had all the trimmings,
certificates bounded in lace, exact replicas
of how it was done. Of course he held
his scepter of having passed through, and knowing
he should (or could) he promised to make her his
Queen-for-a, well, forever. She, as the manuals suggest,
fell in love with his promise. No one could anything
but not see how there was no end
to the rings he began to leave in the tub.
The thing was he had to hurry to get back to
the pumpkin that was waiting to turn and never
did. Still, she attended his table and served
appreciative rolls. She kept the throne
sturdy as home grown tomatoes. This was good.
The base of the throne, however, had a predisposition
to lean. He could not sit squarely and she had lost
her fixings. Night sickness, she began to think,
could account for her yearning for nutmeg
and flour not out of the mill, this longing
for something more common, a touch perhaps.
She remembered in Primary playing Persephone
not wanting to hold the wet hand of Pluto, even to march
for the crowd. In the end of course, it was a renunciation
for air, air.

- Emma Lou Thayne
(found here)