music and prose by Roly Skender

I arrive at the palace by bus

The Queen and I are getting on surprisingly well
She’s dressed elegantly in red
In the giant hall
we dance beneath chandeliers
and cameras flash around us

Family, dignitaries and the press watch on
We talk about history and philosophy
She confides in me some little-known annoyances,
that she experiences in her role as monarch
It’s a job in which, she discloses,
she does her best

She’s so easy to talk to
Then, mid-conversation, she reaches down
and grabs hold of my genitals
I push her hand away and say ‘that’s not why I’m here’
but I don’t really know why I’m here

Her strength is surprising
With knees bent, I push her wrist away from my crotch
We eventually drop to the floor together
I apologise

Men arrive to take her away from me,
but she breaks free of them and rushes towards me
This time I catch the force of her underarm grab
with both hands at her forearm
and the force is re-directed

I remain in a broad, bent-knee stance
as my feet slide backwards across the dance floor
I narrowly avoid contact with a table of canapes
Quite suddenly, it’s time to leave

But I enjoyed dancing
with the queen