Negative Space

Your reign begins with
A crown of grief
In a throne of thunder!
That rips
Hurts
Burns
Flesh
Like sulphur,
In a void
Where death exists
Supreme.
And your head tosses
Uneasy;
A king in your rights
Yet unkingly in regard
Because the red dust
Dictates obligations in the shade,
And wild Angels
With scarred wings
Sing of your trauma:
              Of lost days in the tropics
              Of last days in the arctic
              Of overrated organza fabrics
              And dancing jewels
              That must adorn you
              Involuntarily