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"The Call" and "Regina" by Corinna Board


Drawn to the edge—

that tug from within,

that umbilical hook.

Hand of God, or my own mind?

It doesn’t really matter.

The void whispers; coaxing me closer –

One more step, Icarus-breathed,

I taste the fall, the reckless call of gravity,

& my heart folds itself into a paper bird.


Virgin bride,

when you left the royal bed

the first thing you did was kill your sisters.

What choice did you have?

You were programmed for survival,

not mercy.

Hive Priestess;

dishing out just enough

pheromones to keep yourself alive.

It can’t be easy,

knowing that your crown could fall at any time,

that you’re precious, yet dispensable.

Mother of bees,

your succession is guaranteed

by your jelly-fed daughters;

murderous as knives.

One day you’ll have to choose

whether to fight or fly.

The queen is dead,

long live the queen.

Corinna Board lives in a small village in the Cotswolds and works in Oxford, where she teaches English as an additional language. She loves her job, although she often wishes she had more time to write poetry. Her main sources of inspiration are art, nature and mythology. She can be found on Instagram @parole_de_reveuse and on Twitter @CorinnaBoard.


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