A Queen

At two in the morning
I can’t sleep.
I watch a program
about the Queen.
She is in Buckingham Palace
where she lives.

And everywhere
she carries a handbag.
Marching over the
Persians in court shoes,
a carefully matched
handbag swinging

from the royal forearm,
she inspects a horse
and banquet preparations,
carrying a handbag. She is
walking around her own house
and she is carrying a handbag.

In the dark kitchen I
make myself a cup of tea.
The program says that
the Queen has 350 servants,
many houses, and her own
helicopter and she is carrying

a handbag. Sometimes gloves
and a hat. Sometimes a crown
and everywhere a handbag.
I guess, surrounded by gilt and
soldiery even a queen needs
something to hang on to.

Paul Turley of Adelaide was born in Wales, mostly raised in Adelaide, and is now living here again after a number years in other places. He is currently studying for a Master of Philosophy degree through the Department of English and Creative Writing at the University of Adelaide, and initiated the inclusion of poetry readings at the McLaren Vale Serafino Wines 2014 Gorgeous Festival.

Readers’ original and unpublished poems of up to 40 lines can be emailed, with postal address, to [email protected]. Submissions should be in the body of the email, not as attachments. A poetry book will be awarded to each accepted contributor.