Queen of the Underworld

By Connie La-Huynh in Issue Eleven, October 2023

When I float along the deep abyss, every rotting worm writhes
to be near me, every putrid parasite begs
for me to eat him whole. The School of Worship
comes out from hiding, longing for salvation
in my generous arms, and in the Midnight Mass,
the angler’s lure is dimmed by my dazzling spring.
They say I was stolen from my home, coveted and preyed
upon by my own, but blithely I traverse the land of monsters
and mayhem, having long forgotten the Ionian Sea.
First appeared the Unseen One, then arrived the gods from above,
all pining for my blue blood heart, and because I have three
I danced for them, lone and ephemeral,
watching and learning before vanishing spectral,
to continue onward, downward, into the hadal,
unfettered, untraceable—no ink left
to write home, anyhow. For I am no longer merely a maiden,
a benevolent creature once dreamed; I am the goddess of life,
of death and destruction—
the sojourning Underworld Queen.

© 2023 Connie La-Huynh

Connie La-Huynh

Connie La-Huynh is a writer with a penchant for the dark, strange, and subversive. She lives in a cottage in the foothills of a California mountain with her husband, many books, and an old cat who guards the house from all things that go bump in the night.

Poetry by Connie La-Huynh
  • Queen of the Underworld