The lady of the castle
hid her complexion
behind wax makeup
and took her guests
in the parlor, hiding behind a screen

Her face was scarred
with the mark of her caste
having the best of everything
she never milked cattle

The lowly milkmaid
her skin pure and smooth
was her envy
How could her skin be so clean?
How can the poor be more beautiful than the rich?

But the salt of the earth
had been hit with the worst
that a milder strain of the pox had delivered

To burn something from your life
sometimes it helps
to fight a weaker strain


Anonymous said…