“Sovereignty does not regard the relation between father and son. A king, it is said, should deem no man his relation.” Jahangir, Mughal of India 1605-1627.

Snatched from the mountain’s womb, these eggs
Hatch, in human beds,
Strife. Even the white is flushed in pigeon blood.

Unsetting unsettle the mind. The peacock’s eyes,
Blind, mesmerize
The pack. Whelps of wolves soon grown: my sons.

Cold heat the blood, make feet quicken, pulses roar,
Stain marble floors
Red. We waltz. Gaffs steeled to sliver, dismember.

Quenched from one offspring’s pits, rotten holes,
Burn on, having gold
Fuel. The breed’s carbuncle stare scorch the planes.