RWP prompt #117

This is done because I had written the poem, blast it, when sinus problems and work took me away.  I spent some time this morning playing with it.  Still not satisfied completely.

Prompt was
readwritepoem.org/blog/2010/03/05/read-write-prompt-117-create-a-hinge-by-zachary-schomburg/  

Tamar Writes

 

 

Tamar writes to her father David,

King of all Israel.

She is uncertain
if he even knows her name.

Annon is lettered, but Tamar had no tutor.

Raped and disgraced, she
writes in the only language that she knows
after that night--

every bundle of cloth that she weaves

has one broken thread. 

When held to light, the linen tunics that she makes 

have a tiny tear: a fault in its warp, 

too small to call for discard,

too great to wear to her brothers' many weddings.

Every meal that Tamar cooks is
missing one spice.

The royal taster rolls it onto his tongue,
and declares it safe but unfilling.  

The wine that she pours into the King’s bowl

loses its dark flavor;

like water, it is quickly forgotten on the tongue.

That is what it means to be the Kings Daughter.

I know this, as

I stand in the cold that pours from your eyes. 

I am baptized by flames;

I am washed clean of illusions.

"Of course," you say, 
"It's your fault. 
"He's my son,

and you're only
my daughter."

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People who actually managed to respond on time:
readwritepoem.org/blog/2010/03/11/get-your-poem-on-117/