Queen Kong (Queen Of Hearts)

She slept in a deck of cards    
whilst all the world buzzed  
and people seeked her and dreamed    
of stroking her; a magician.    
   
Yet she was plain and bare as    
a naked heart, and surrounded by suitors;    
spades, aces, jokers, clubs, diamonds,    
rough and ready to play her,    
stacking themselves up to her    
demeure flatness.    
   
The world already knew her tale,    
knew how to roll a coin, some dice    
to conjure her, a spin of a wheel;    
but no gamble was made on the queen,    
she was a sure shot, no shamble.    
   
But oh, her bleeding crimson heart    
loved to ramble red onto the table    
of her domain and the folk, they    
ate up her fortune, and those suitors,    
they longed to play at her game    
even if it were only to lose.    
The full deck was needed    
for her to win and take all.    
   
She sat, hinged upon the competitive    
circle with her chips down for all to see.    
And there, the queen became a prize    
in her own right as transience was key;    
the illusion of winning was a work of finesse    
and never so grand was she,
never a queen so free.    
   
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