once upon a time

I am the queen.
I am above you.
I am highness, I embody
the quality of heaven
unendingly up.

No I will not take my crown off,
No I will not.
No I will not allow it.

This is my palace.
A man made my shoes for me.
I liked him. I invited him to the palace.
I invited the shoemaker to come hang out.

He did not want to come.
He said, I am not fit for a queen.
I said, no shit.
But I am inviting you.
Come in, and behave.

I do not know how,
he said, lingering by the door,
looking back outside,
lingering.

Then leave, I said. Jesus.
He shrugged, spat and left.

I followed him in robes.
Others saw me the queen the queen
search and march through the streets
dragging heavy glorious.
The others watched as I

found his house and rapped.
He answered. He said,
My home is not fit for a queen.
Shut the fuck up,
I said,
I am the queen,
this is my kingdom,
your house falls under my jurisdiction.
It is fit for me. I am coming in,
if that is okay.

His shoehouse was bare and messy.
We lay down on his bed and were
bad at sex, I the queen curious,
him seeing the queen and feeling poor
he wondered what he could get away with,
the naivete of highness,
the shrewdness nothing offers,
when she left to use his bathroom
he stole and stole and stole from the queen

within her robes, gold, rings, birds,
pearls, china, lockets, hair, trinkets,
silver chains, candies from France,

and when she came back to bed
he raised his hand to strike
the naive queen who thought
invisible power protected.
Leave, he said, I am not fit for you, queen,
you see, I have taken from you,
and it is your fault.
Smack.
Stop hitting yourself. Does my hand fall under your jurisdiction,
you stupid fucking queen?
Go home,
you stupid fucking queen,
fucking stupid queen.

Stupid fucking queen went home,
I went home, confused,
the confusion of the child of the palace,
Shocked at one's own strangeness
and blindness of having,
robbed but warned, but bleeding,
but warned, but bleeding, but warned,
but I was warned, but bleeding, but warned.