you should have danced all night
in your step-mother’s red-hot iron shoes.
She knew that a woman’s face mattered enough
to tell lies, worked her own with Oil of Olay.
Did you think the men in your life
would not want a beautiful housewife too?
You should have married that huntsman instead
and slept on the forest floor, or lived
with the wild boar, and saved your heart
from boundless hours of housework
and whoring for those seven little men,
and the moments in between while you watched
your sigh-long tale of woe thicken like cold porridge.
Had you puked out the last of your luck
when your prince arrived,
the tea kettle would not be steaming
with anger and misting old desires
while your hands conspired
against the poly-graphic lines around your eyes
reflected in the looking-glass upon your wall.
“Snow White Turns 201” was originally published in Damaged Wine.