Dolores the Drag Queen

 

Dolores the Drag Queen

On stage until two

She deals cleverly with hecklers

And the unruly few

 

With a few gags or a put-down

Or a withering look

She hands over aggressive ones

To bouncers Paddy & Chuck

 

Next day it’s the club office til four

Then stops for a break

And what Dolores adores

Is a brew and a cream cake

 

‘Earl Grey’ she says grandly

As she pulls up a chair

In the local patisserie

In which she has a half share

 

Off come the sling-backs

And she wriggles her toes

‘Ooh that feels so good’

‘It’s great to be home’

 

Eating her cake daintily

With a knife and a fork

She sips on her Earl Grey

And watches it all

 

Pass by the window

Of the little quaint café

Where she can wear what she likes

And have a good laugh

 

With the café regulars

Sharing makeover tips

And talk about life

In between sips

 

At the end of the day

Dolores transforms

She’s back out on the stage

As it’s here she performs

 

Dolores the Drag Queen

Her audience she rules

A star among mortals

In high heels and false boobs

 

© Kate McClelland 2015

Cartoon of RuPaul by Jeremy

Depression

Depression

I am so tense the back of my neck aches

Sinew twisting & turning

Tightening like a fast creeping ivy

Strangling its host tree

Crushing it slowly in its vice-like grip

I feel two enormous hands surrounding my skull

Squeezing & pushing down my head into my shoulders

Pressing their clawed thumbs into my forehead

As its bony fingers shove themselves roughly

Into the nape of my neck

Heavy weights hang off my shoulders

Pulling me downwards

I can barely lift my head

I have aged 40 years in an hour

My eyelids try to force themselves closed

They don’t want to see the damage

Scared to see the look of fear

& terrible bone-weariness of their owner in a reflection

Depression smacks me in the brain

I drag my gravity bound body to my bed

I don’t even take my shoes off

I insinuate my aching bulk under the covers

Pulling them over my head drowning out the terrible light

There I lie foetal & damaged I am lost in the blackness

That gnaws at my soul & spits out my gristle

My bed – a safe place for oblivious & dark thoughts

Until the tension starts to ease

I see in my mind’s eye - a slight chink of sky blue

I become less afraid of the light

The ‘hands’ pull away & the ivy rots back

The shoulder weights drop off & I can think again

Think of the things of the light

Bright things, a walk outside, a new book

The smell of fresh, scented flowers comes back to me again

This time I just lost a day

I am frightened for the next time

That this happens & it may not lift

To be permanently in a state

Of dread & fear & hopelessness simply cannot be borne

But this time I put the kettle on open a window - and breathe

 (c) Kate McClelland 2016

 

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