In the wilderness of my thoughts

And in the desert of my

pontification, I asked, My Lords,

Who is Madam?

My Lords, am I safe?

I ask not in shadows of

doubt But with gratifying

certainty

That THEIR Lordships have been oiled.

The hummingbird told me in loud

silence And in suspecting echoes

That my fate is doomed under THEIR

lordships. I am doomed not because I am

guilty

I am doomed because Madam's cosmetics ran

out And it will take my head at the Gallow to

refill it.

And my heart asks,

This madam, how does she

look? Is she Tall?

Or

Short

?

Is she

dark?

Or

Light in complexion? Is she huge and

Gigantic? Or Smallish?

Is madam the

law?

Or

Is madam the Justice I seek?

Is Madam the cousin of

Jezebel? The answers I seek,

Are in my thoughts:

Maybe, madam is the head,

And no one disobeys the

Head, Maybe madam is the

General,

No soldier disobeys the General,

Maybe, Just Maybe, madam is

…

Maybe madam is Gomer—Married to the prophet

Hosea. Maybe Madam is

Lot’s Wife— living

in Sodom,

The city of legendary

wickedness, And we should

flee from her.

Maybe madam is The Witch of

Endor, conjuring the dead,

To predict the future of mortals. Maybe

madam is Delilah,

Causing the downfalls of Giants.Maybe madam is Potiphar’s wife

Accusing me of rape,

When I am innocent.Maybe madam is Herodias,

Asking for the head of John the Baptist on a

Platter. Maybe madam is Athaliah,

The daughter of Ahab,

Murdering her

grandchildren, To secure

the throne.

Madam could be Eve—The original

baddie, Caught in the serpentine

romance

Dancing to the serpent’s lie,

That God wasn’t telling the truth.

Who is madam?

My Lords?