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I'm ceded—I've stopped being Theirs
The name They dropped upon my face
With water, in the country church
Is finished using, now
And They can put it with my Dolls
My childhood, and the string of spools
I've finished threading—too

Baptized, before, without the choice
But this time, consciously, of Grace
Unto supremest name
Called to my Full—The Crescent dropped
Existence's whole Arc, filled up
With one small Diadem

My second Rank—too small the first
Crowned—Crowing—on my Father's breast
A half unconscious Queen
But this time—Adequate—Erect
With Will to choose, or to reject
And I choose, just a Crown