Queen-weary, I produce half-
Planets in interregnum
Life-tired, I give false birth:
My very own myrmidons:
Come, princess, come grab your kids
Shake loose one hundred great oaks
It may hail acorns for years:
Press some in ash volcanic
Like smash-glass, the rock flakes
Yet growth grows obscenely ripe
Where life is not supposed to
Reign: the rains come stumbling down
(King-weary, she produces whole
Planets in an in-between)