Ophelia’s Flowers (The Queen of Carthage, generation 3) By the time he’s returned home, she’s killed them all: the Queen, poisoned, her mouth stuffed full of larkspur and love lies bleeding; the King in his bed, stabbed bloody, dogsbane and yellow gentian laced between his fingers. She looks up when her door slips aside, inContinue reading “Ophelia’s Flowers, a poem”
Laura E. Price 