The malachite maiden envelopes her ivory torso
in jade-encrusted gown,
slips her alabaster feet
into the chartreuse of her shoes
and adorns one slender finger
with a single emerald rock.

A fool-proof disguise -
apart from the ring of keys
gently jangling from her willowy waist
as she soundlessly pads her windowless palace -
unfastened even - entombed in her bedroom.

A somewhat unusual hobby, kleptomania
wiling away the endless evenings
fingering her padlocked treasure,
and the slaves know better
than to disturb her pleasure -
welts still smarting from those aquamarine nails.
Perhaps more bitter than sweet - the covenant -
protection for freedom.



The green queen rules alone
upon her covetous throne
listlessly licking her thin lips
her white-knuckled grip upon
the suspicious sceptre.