In My Court

In my court we do things differently

no dark and light fae queens

fighting on a marble chessboard

but a coalesced (un)seelie underbelly

gritty and gray as a whetstone.

Here the fungi are our friends

until they become the last mouths

our bodies feel before the soul detaches.

Here we cut our feet dancing

on broken hearts and snail shells

and wipe off the blood on mossy mats come dawn.

Creatures lie here under oath and underbrush

in my court.