Sunday, September 18, 2016

Quintuplets In Service of Dropping a Hat for my Queen


Me and my queen –
betwixt and between,
surveying the scene,
whatever the cost
to the heart –

my heart (to be clear) –
not the Queen's.
Hers was lost to a peer
of the realm overwhelming
her, back in the 1750s
I'm told: before she lost

hold of her wits – long
before I got my tic:
stripping off at the drop
of a hat. (Though I often
put on the dropped hat.)

Queenie don't care about
that. Queenie don’t care
about squat. ‘So what?’
is what she only ever
decrees. But be bold:

play out the plot: go drop
a chapeau & I’ll strip
like a ho’ in a breeze.
That is, if it’s hot.
If it's cold, I will not.




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