Madam Vespucci awoke in the land
She named after her father
And gazed across the horizon
Surveying her domain.
She had lived there many years
Had rented the land to many tenants.
As old as she was,
She was still considered young
Sometimes even naïve
By her neighbors and allies.
She had prospered in her father’s land
She ruled supreme

She says
“Not even the King can unseat me here”

But the day is fast approaching
If not already here,
When madam Vespucci will
Notice that the morning dew on her shoes
Is made of broken tears from broken men;
That the whispering wind
Is wailing women;
That she reaps a harvest of children,
Desperate to forget
Desperate to remember.

And If she does nothing
Or else doesn’t notice
Perhaps the King will