Ten bears And a Hundred Eunuchs

Bodies carved into incense sticks and poetry.
Ink to hide thought,
Mulberry scent to hide the leak of urine,
Lofty laughs to hide the agony behind the mask.

A society kept within the king’s proximity-
His ten bears, his hundred eunuchs.

Their names taken at the gates,
Their thoughts sieved from all logic,
And when they cry, throw their family
In the fire, along with that hairpin they cherish.

Then the performance begins:
The way the king watches the curtains 
Stop, and, then, hang.
Like committing suicide,
You're enjoying it too, right?

Chains to hold the anger
They strategically stuffed inside the desperate bear,
With mercy and empathy collapsing in the corridors,
Dogs wait outside, teasing.
“Come here, come here!" "Strike us! C'mon!"

Marble tiles veined with betrayal,
Words taped together into deals
To poison the most loyal.

Move. Glare, don't make noise.
Crouch until your spine learns obedience.

Words widowed of meaning.
You may watch,
Where poems break, palaces rise.
Each stanza a test.
Each word a debt to dignity you don’t even own.

“He isn’t entertaining anymore.” A rustle.
"Throw him out." A pause.
And with a flare of a wick,
A human loses his worth, as his warm
Knees kiss the humble hell, mopping the blood
Draining from his feet, he couldn't dance anymore.

"Bring another one. Dress him in silk.
Do not give him a name-teach him poetry."

A poet’s castrated pen,
A king’s dream: the world, his harem.