CINDERELLA
My step-sisters are willing
to cut off their toes for him.
What would I do for those days
when I played alone
in the hazel tree over my mother's grave?
I would go backwards if I could
and stay in that moment when the doves
fluttered down with the golden gown.
But everything has changed.
I trace his form in the ashes,
and then sweep it away before they see.
He's been on parade with that shoe.
All Prince, with heralds and entourage,
they come trumpeting through the village.
If he found me, would he recognise me,
my face, after mistaking their feet for mine?
I want to crawl away
into my pigeon house, my pear tree.
The world is too large, bright like a ballroom
and then suddenly dark.
Mother, no one prepared me for this –
for the soft heat of a man's neck when he dances
or the thickness of his arms.
Gwen Strauss
2006-11-08
21:19:14
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2 answers
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asked by
rachitkhaitan
1
in
Arts & Humanities
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