An Awkward Lunch with the Queen

Midday, midweek, midsummer at the park

reading Matt Sedillo’s “La Reina” amongst

the domestic workers pushing strollers

filled with fair skinned kids.

I see them, Matt, the queens with their eyes

tired above Covid masks, straining on the hills

bracing and progressing tiny, naked white faces.

I see them, the queens, how they care about

the health of others, keeping their poisoned breath

from mine, keeping it from mixing with their charges.

I also see their employers, the faceless, subjugating

these tired queens by pulling the invisible strings

called supply and demand. I see them, the faceless,

allowing just enough slack to step outside,

to push some weight up hill, to quiet tears

they don’t want to hear, but not enough

to cover the fair’s mouth, not enough to protect

others from that poisoned air. I can feel the virus,

out at the park, infecting with each exhalation.

It feels so much like, a mindful,

meditative breath.

Orignally published in Rigorous