the Queen

Heavy queen in polyester robes
Singing Aida or “I need ya”
An Impromptu recital from the balcony
A thick silver hairspray can her gilded microphone
A sullen garter her crown
Aluminum wrappers taken
From the tops of purple wines
Twisted into precious rings
A pair of bejeweled slippers
From the street market downtown
Holes where her calloused toes
Peek with chipped polish
A poor kind of beauty
When she bows for her audience
A single eyed pigeon sitting on her terrace
With nowhere to fly