Kate asks me to wait

My breath is quick as I try to sneak a look
at the royal box, when I feel a tap on my shoulder.
Do you have a moment, a woman says softly.
I turn and about spill my drink on her purple 
bespoke dress. It is Kate, the Princess of Wales,
smiling at me as if we were old university chums.
Could you give me a hand, I need to be undone.
I tell her I get it, I would be undone too 
if the press hounded my every move, howled 
about my health, created conspiracy theories, 
and examined pictures I took of my children 
as if I were a criminal who intentionally hides 
an arm, a hand, the position of buttons on a blazer. 
In my ear she whispers, No, no, I want to be undone.
Will is watching bloody polo, and I need to go to the loo. 
She asks me to walk with her and wait for her to finish. 
I ask where her ladies in waiting are waiting. They are wait-
ing somewhere. She tells me she understands why ladies
who wait disappear from time to time. I never forgot
that Waity Katie business, so I allow them leeway.
I am gobsmacked, so I ask, Why did you choose me, 
a commoner in the cheap seats? I only came up here to get 
a glimpse of your smile that looks like a secret lies at the tip 
of your lips, your hazel eyes, flecked with green and gold, 
the same as mine. You resemble my mum, so you will be fine. 
I am fine, I say, but if those ladies can keep even you waiting, 
anything could happen. 

LINDA LADERMAN

Linda Laderman’s poetry has appeared in numerous literary journals, including SWWIM, ONE ART, Thimble, Action-Spectacle, Scapegoat Review, Rust & Moth, and MER. She is a recipient of Harbor Review’s Jewish Women’s Prize and was a Pushcart Prize nominee. Her micro-chapbook, What I Didn’t Know I Didn’t Know, is online at harbor-review.com.