Work Text:
i.
here is how it starts, this dream, this long aching dream:
like a breath
and a blink
and lifting your head
beneath a veil
(it’s still about union
and still about faith).
god is good. god could be good and
here
here, it’s him, your brother
who runs like
the wind
(they are all
your brothers, anyway)
and he made it because he cares, so you care
for the garden, the trees
the lemons
and when the boys with gunpowder on their teeth come crashing in
(boys, mind you,
who ask you to join their country because you’re a woman,
and all you can do is laugh,
and wilbur soot has a silver tongue,
and your brother’s grin is indulgent)
you cough through the smoke and smile.
dream a little dream, my friend
it can grow long
ever longer
like a breath
and a collapse.
ii.
first lady of l’manberg. that is your name
not a title
not a prize
your name. because you’re the first lady
(there are no others here
no proof of another girl
having had the chance to live
happy on this server)
and it makes your best friend laugh.
he’s got grey hairs now, you know,
from the gunpowder he says
(he really means
the war
the age
the strain)
but it’s silver like a crown so who’s really counting. eret made her choice
and wilbur made his
nobody’s business who killed who.
anyway, they call you first lady,
and they’re right
in every way that matters
so you have flour clouding your house,
so you have hatred bubbling in your lungs,
so you’re looking for blood on your hands.
it’s not your fault how the man crowned by horns
took this country
swallowed it whole
fork and fingers
looks to ruin you too.
he didn’t need to try anyway. because
nobody listens
and nobody cares
and even worse is that nobody tried
and you tried. oh
first lady
first casualty
first crime, you tried. and when the all the bread in the world
all the flowers and the prayers and the city over dry waters didn’t work,
you broke
the last promise
that you never made.
this tree, rotten
(this boy, broken)
crush them into dust.
(flour
on your countertops.)
nobody ever bothered
to teach you otherwise
about love
and about power
violence is the only language
nobody ever said it was the best.
iii.
there is no history here. it’s fitting enough, given your own lack
(“where you from”
“nowhere i think”
“eh good enough”)
so you make do. you always do,
on the high seas,
on the high wire,
you’ve always made do. find friends find sons find treasure,
find something worth protecting here and you’re anchored
for good. it’s always been about finding the good place, a
place of refuge not for you, but the people you choose to
love
and cherish.
the girl you take to dine,
she’s pretty,
and she has a massive scar all along her ribs
over her chest
climbing into her mouth and inside her heart
(you don’t have to see to know)
it doesn’t surprise you
that she leaves
in search of ruin.
your son loves you
calls you “papa”
and both of them die
as much as they can.
the boys you try to help
they die too
(to rot
to ruthlessness
to the beginnings of plans for nuclear warfare)
even though you want to help
(“did you try”
“i hope so”
“eh good enough”)
even though
people say you did.
you can’t help but think
everything
here
is in search of ruin.
iv.
watch this, boys
watch you make the most of nothing
it’s your specialty
and war isn’t the worst thing you’ve seen.
(you wage it every day.)
it’s been a while since you’ve thought
about picket fences and pink gardens
roses and not their thorns
peace without fighting for it
it’s nice. it’s worth it,
and feeling that
it’s worth it
is making the most of nothing.
“this place
is a fucking wasteland,”
you say to yourself, out loud,
but for reference, all your own battlefields are pristine
(purpled will know)
and you don’t pick and choose
where to win
and where to lose.
sam
coward
traitor
motherfucker
who has no partner
(because he cut their arm off)
and no power
(because he bows to corruption)
leads you by the hand
away
from the blood vines
(“if it makes you feel better he could be worse”
“if he were worse i would kill him”
“if you do can you promise to make it hurt”
“did it hurt when he took your arm”
“i don’t know
it hurt worse than when george burnt my trees
and worse than when dream lost it
and worse than when alyssa left
so i think it hurt
i think it hurt a lot”
“i’ll make it hurt
and i’ll make him remember what he did
and i’ll make him regret it.
is that what the egg promised you”
“it’s close enough
how can i repay you”
“when all this is over
help me forget about it”)
so it stands to reason
you go back.
the egg
is beautiful
and makes you remember
how to win.
v.
you do not bow and you do not scrape
and if any man on this server thinks they can make
a fool
or a wreck
or a liar
or a puppet
out of you
out of you
this fucking server
and every god
every king
every president that ever died here
has got another thing coming.