Baby boy, I am the queen of the night out

wide smile, stay a while

wake up in an alleyway with the lights out –

I am craic in the gaelic way

dancing on the bar, you thinking I’m a star

until I start to sway –

Away from your hips and down to the floor

we were laughing but you’re not sure

If I’m alright anymore –

And I –

I am coronated somewhere between vomit and assault:

a queen demoted to a body in the moat

But I –

I am the queen of the night out.

And honey, I won’t shout –

I won’t shout that alcohol is tantamount to consent to you

When I – passed out – end up in your bed with you

And you bought – how many rounds? – you think I owe you

I owe you?

Do I owe you?

What we forget about queens is ultimately they’re slaves

to their kings and monarchy and olden days

Given away with dowries, dressed up in pansies

and walked off, smiling and naïve, to the chopping block

But I –

I am the queen of the night out

I am glitter and festivals and dark stories I try to make funny

I am not the girl that you will take home to mummy

Because you know, you know she won’t approve of me

I am more transgressive Magdalene than the first Mary

but boy, let me pour you some tea:

What your darling mummy sees in me

Is the bits of her that she buried in the dirt down deep

In confession boxes and forgive me fathers

But fuck your forgiveness – I’ve lived this harder

than last rites and cold nights

And hungover days and bar fights

Because I –

I did not get this crown the easy way; my Roman empire was not built in a day

And I am sorry, but you do not get a say how my traumas manifest in my day to day

So, in the meantime, I demand to be seen

So, save your judgement boy, and bow to your queen.

Categories: Poetry