Guinevere and Lancelot cool it


She whispers his name
to the night
and her voice trickles down
to him.

Across the moon
a skin
crumbles patch by patch
as they watch.

Water, water.
Who knows when
these two will blend


Rachel McAlpine

Enter Sir Lancelot


Although it’s true
that golden gleams
surround him

and true that every tree
blossoms with a crash
as he goes by

it is a silent seeking
in his eyes that draws her.
She unzips.

A bird coughs.
It rains from a sky of blue.
And a queen wants a love that is pure.


Rachel McAlpine