Queen of Denmark

By hailey o'gorman

Content warning: suicidal ideation

dear Meg;
 
when talking to another she/they about the nature of our transsexualism, they offered me a profound and touching sentiment; something i hadn’t considered possible within myself;

she told me that she simply enjoys being trans; that she is happy with her life; that she enjoys living;

i trust you Meg; another poet; to understand my reaction of profound astonishment; it was a clean and beautiful sentiment; to enjoy the ability to live so earnestly; an unafraid contentment to recognise; that they continue to live; and to break it down so succinctly; i trust you to understand;

i feel this year to be important for you and me; important used loosely; i mean something along the lines of developmental; the last year has been; affecting; impactful; big; but you have played a significant role in mine; you are a significant person; effective in commanding space; and time; and voice; i will begin this letter by saying that i trust you to understand; and that you are a poet with the power to make the norm become affecting; to draw beauty with words; to understand integrity in confidence; as much as your boy problems would leave you to feel otherwise;

this letter will be built from flattery; and trauma; i’m glad we’ve clicked;

when i say year, i mean like, late july to today, april; did you know i tried to kill myself last summer?; so much happened; like i say; a busy fucking nine or so months; overwhelm was just the beginning of it; but man; thank you for buying me this mocha; it goes hard; i’m so glad i didn’t kill myself on the 13th of august 2021 at 19:35; i’m glad we’ve clicked;

when i first met you; i don’t know; my feelings were; definitely weird; did i tell you what happened two weeks before i met you?; it was all i was thinking about then; life and love were a burning plastic; my guts were drowning in pcp; i didn’t understand; all that you met was all that i had left; flesh and blood and the role of victim;

everything was feeling weird then; feeling guilty for the acts of others; i guess i overlooked you at first; but feared you equally; you had composure; strength; smarts; a poetic effectiveness to you; you could call it crushing; in reflection, i would definitely call it crushing; all dampened by my social drownings of the era; i wanted to party with you; i wanted to hear your poetry; i wanted to know what your deal was;

but like any transdyke of the time; who’d just started hormones a month prior; i was a mess; crying twice daily mess; and the last thing i’d want would be to pass that onto you; i was nineteen years old enough to know everybody had their own shit going on; i guess i was curious to know how you felt about me then; how transparent i was; in desiring to be a ‘woman’ like you; if there ever was such a thing;

i’d been told to idealise the person i want my body to become; there was a hot second in first year that happened to be you; i had a lot of growing to do; i still do; i wanted your validation then; by all stretches of the imagination; i wanted the love of the cooler; hotter; composed dyke;

you’re gay enough to understand what i mean; if you were a guy; you’d be the type of guy i’d be into; in the lesbian sense; leaving just the three of us; me; you; and the wall we’ve built between us; between our own anxieties; and composure complexes; a verbose coping mechanism;

and i wonder now how i’ve moved on since then; have the last near-three-years been healing for me?; how have they been for you?; tell me; through your words composed; or your texts drunk; i honestly don’t care; you’re a friend; i'm just happy to hear your voice nowadays;

there was a pretty big set back last summer; are you from london?; could i have found you there?; escaped it all?; we are where we are now;

i’m telling you this now because it’s an act of letting go; i didn’t really see you after first year; considering the mess of spring 2020; there were nights i walked out alone; you’re still the type of person i want to bump into; indulge your poetry, honestly; indulge your writing, indignantly;

your designed composure of broad shoulder blazers; black berets; and leather jeans; failed to pass me by as the world was eaten; i started my blog then; what would you think if i retired it?; there’s a couple of pieces i’ve handed you to make or edit; but i’m twenty-one now; and i understand the differences in the time that’s past; we’ve all got work we have to do; the facades we hold; the exhaustion of it all; that rots the heart; and picks the brain of the broken; dispossessed; woman;

becoming an adult; a woman; all hormone’d up; i can feel the stretch marks alchemize and reformulate; and i ask this in the most sensitive and respectful way; what scars does your body harbour?; do you see them as scars?; how do you see yourself?; and if you answer interestingly;

do you think we could do a freaky friday bit?; you’re a friend; and i want to see how you see the world; the bulk of it all; how you see yourself; how you see the future; the past; me; i trust you understand;

i’ll tell you what; all goth’d up; your composure is catholic; i think i understand it in some way; such beautiful desire and relationship for sin;

i get the vibes though; i think i understand the type of content you want to consume; you’d like the same things as my mother; there’s this song by john grant; Queen of Denmark; you look like you want to dance; you look like a dyke in that sense; i wanted to change the world;  it’s a heartbreaking song; but i could not even change my underwear; a loss and subjection to letting it all go; and then that shit got really really out of hand; coincided with a violent resistance to it all; bring your crowbar and perhaps a stun gun;

did you know john grant is HIV positive?; he continues living; he continues making music; i think you see past my threats to kill myself; i dont want to ruin your celebration with my own narrative; it’s a terrible thing to take a man’s life; but i know you could kill with a look; hold a room hostage; whatever condition comes over you; whatever boy has your heart; you’ll pull some shit; you’ll know how to say it; and say it better than anybody else; and tear hearts from chests; and drink the blood of your lovers;

you are fierce; you are fantastic; you are afraid of the future; please Meg; you would like my mother; please Meg; do not become like my mother; im sure she has her good side; but bigotry would not look good on you; i don’t think you’re capable of such a thing; you dress like a rockstar; for a generation of waiting punks; i want people to write books in your name;

they’re never going to teach about you in school; because you’ll be a guaranteed read; there’s going to be a day i see your name in the news; did they write about sarah kane in the news?; i can imagine seeing your names in the same sentence; the idea makes me afraid; as we’ve gone through some shit; but i will live in this anxiety for the rest of my life; you hold the form of beauty that sleeps with tragedy; a stark elegance; an enigmatic love; or fearlessness; or ferocity;

don’t let me pass my own fears onto you; but live forever; change; and supersede; but don’t die; don’t deal in tragedy; the parts of my scarred skin still heal; though it is just a flesh wound; they hurt still; i tried to kill myself; i’ll say this to you on our eventual night out; that if i’m raped again; it’s fucking over babes;

i trust you to understand my tonal mismanagement; sorry for sitting in gutters and smoking the ends of extinguished cigarettes; i'm sorry for rolling in the dirt; im sorry for licking my plate; in writing this; don’t let me idealise you; it does dangerous things to our ego; our writing narcissus; standing in deep reflection in the lake of the moor; we are hot; we are strong; we are the source of our own destruction; i invite you here and now; tell me hurt; and the recognising of our inhuman desires;

tell me what disgusts you; so i can know you more; so that these phrases have meaning; so that our friendship is bound in what non-she-theys call blood; what we call discourse; what we call love; break down our identity and leave me free of ego;

i hope that freedom comes to you; effortlessly and clean; in the bathroom of theatres; in the coffee of your future; in the regrets of tomorrow; one of these days will be the beginning of better times; and it will come like an autumn you forgot to realise; surrounding you in the most beautiful replenishing of the earth; where angels fall from trees; and god controls the wind; you will be the new ruler of this world; i hope you can bare your teeth; and drink life from the sky itself;

Meg; i hope your favourite song comes on; in a bar you've never been to; i hope the goth kids and buff girls call you cool; i hope the themes are clear to you; and you find the right words; i hope your grief is healing; i hope your growth is surprising; i hope he reciprocates; i hope the recommendation is right; i hope they have it all in stock; i hope your rings fit forever; i hope you can recognise the red flags; i hope it’s the perfect shade of black; i hope you say the right thing; i hope the smell goes away; i hope it’s the best book you’ve read in a long time; i hope you see the point of it all; and feel like you’ve seen enough for one day;

so that when; one of these days; when we will share our last goodbye; and it will come unexpectedly; and we will only realise after the fact; i know in sacred comfort everything will fall into place;

we’ll stay in contact obvs; sorry lol; im not letting you go; but the day will come; the passing will come over us; what a strange role you’ve played in this strange life; you were born in a different era; when the world rebuilds itself; i hope you find your home there; in flesh; in stone; in yourself; whatever;

there’s a song by; bonnie “prince” billy; that i can't find on spotify anymore; called a minor place; a generation of two brothers; sharing their issues of addiction and; urges to relinquish life; in a heartbeat; my mother loved bonnie “prince” billy and the cairo gang; i doubt it’s your taste in music; i really hope i’m not writing this and creating an idea of you that i want to see in the world; i promise you; i’m trying to y'know, breakdown what we mean to one another; in the most motherless sense;

o it’s not a desert nor a web; nor a tomb where i lay dead; minor in a sound alone; yes a clear commanding tone;

have you read jessica gives me a chill pill by angie sijun-lou?; or listened to car seat headrest?; or john molina; he’s dead now; or nilüfer yanya; or bad witch by nine inch nails; meg; tell me before you go; what’s your favourite abba song; do you wanna get drunk and listen to laurel hell; did you know not everything feels like something else?;

what do you mean when you say goodbye?; should i be afraid?; should i be enamoured?; am i making any sense?; do you know what i mean?;

i’ve never felt so close to you before; the pandemic certainly hasn’t helped; but we came from the generation of the anxious teenage tenderqueer; we will become ourselves eventually; entirely; i hope this is beautiful to you then; i’ll still be as awkward then as i am now; confidence is a trick of smoke and mirrors; confidence is a bad joke told perfectly;

when all this is said and done; and you regret letting me do this; and i’ve lost all my regrets; i hope you stay feral; i want the same for me; this world is falling away from our fingertips; to the point where i can’t feel it anymore; of any body in my life; i hope you have the ability to scream; and tell it to come back; and run back towards it; in your silly little shoes; you could run through the universe; finding back the body you want to have; run as far as you want; and come closer to the god you hold dear;

become the redefined angel; the modern madonna; the she-they you want to see in the world; you and your wonderful gender; i will not apologise for this; through my bloated clauses and; dubious use of heavy language; go fucking crazy; go kill god; eat his bones; scream; and dance in the fire; by the black light; by the shadows of recognition; i will never be that close of a friend to you; that this letter is overblown; simplistic; and an ego driven project; i write it as an affection; a raw love; to the friends we could have been; time gets in the way; the pandemic gets in the way; goth girls have the most colourful mental health;

mania is a dream; productivity is a fiction; poetry is a night out with the girl you met on the bus; i’m sorry if this is a lot; i only mean to be honest; but honesty is a full cooked breakfast; make or break; we’re all going somewhere tomorrow; i’m not too sure where you’ll be; but you’ll be alive;

spreading the slut rot; of feral gender ambiguity; looks can kill; i trust you to understand when i say; Meg will murder;

i have only seen the surface of you; but you have been a friend; a muse; and a good fucking laugh; so we will lay to rest the last three years; our bones are not tired; we are young; pretending to be older than we are; here lie two bad bitches; two girls made from bad habits;

maybe i've misread the room; maybe we’re going in two different directions; but i sincerely hope; with every part of this stupid, scarred heart; that we are looking to enjoy life; to enjoy living; to let this world be good to us; to let our pale skin; drink in every ounce of the sun; and never sweat on summer days;

all the goth kids from sixth form are lawyers now; let me say that the gothic dyke i went to uni with set fire to the universe; ate god; redefined tragedy on broadway; and became the next Queen of Denmark;
​
find your way; i am going to miss you; good luck; 

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hailey o'gorman (they/she) is a writer from Belfast, living in Cornwall. They write fiction and creative non-fiction around the transsexual experience, the anthropocene and trading card games. She has been previously published in Stone of Madness press (https://stoneofmadnesspress.com/hailey-ogorman) and Short Vine Journal (Fall 2021 edition). They are studying for a Masters degree in Professional Writing from Falmouth University, graduating with a BA in Creative Writing in 2022. You can find her Twitter @regret_mech. As a living person, hailey is really good at yugioh.