Cage

At all times he's on view in the courtyard;
flares on ivied walls light him at night.
He watches servants draw water, pluck fowls,
groom horses for hunters in green livery.
He watches the court ladies on balconies.
They gossip and take the morning air, stitch
wimples with dewdrop pearls — the queen among them.
The king paces the garden's labyrinth.
And there's a boy throwing a golden ball
through sunlight — capturing, freeing it
in a slow rhythm till it's swept from sight:
a bright hostage gripped by claw-nailed hands.