REPORT FROM BEHIND THE CASTLE

To deal with the King, one must go behind the cur­tain in the castle—for the best inter­est of every­thing offi­cial. This way the peo­ple won’t notice. So much. They will not care to notice.

Am I about to mar­ry to the King? There are ladies here. Ladies mount­ing one anoth­er. Togeth­er are they the Queen?

Am I about to become the Queen? If I can touch the spot where the Queen mount­ed, does that make mount­ing pro­duc­tive? If the Queen is tan­gi­ble, can she be vision­ary? Am I to become a ver­sion of the Queen or am I join­ing the Queen?

The King is here. The King struts down the street, twirling his crown, being the spec­ta­cle befit for his king­dom. He is not behind the cur­tain, he is not abid­ing the deci­sion. Was he the one who made the deci­sion? Was this the King’s deci­sion? Was the King present for this deci­sion-mak­ing occasion?

Behind the castle’s cur­tain I meet with Some­body. My cell phone cov­ered in goo, I strug­gle heed­ing this call. Do you rec­og­nize sub­stance? It seems a sub­stan­tial goo. This Some­body promis­es to inves­ti­gate and return with answers about my goo. Could this Some­body be the King? Can I be the King too? Will any­one care to notice?

Reb Liv­ingston is the author of God Damsel (No Tell Books, 2010) and Your Ten Favorite Words (Coconut Books, 2007). She lives in North­ern Vir­ginia with her hus­band and son.