Rapunzel Revisited

Rapunzel Revisited


At roseate sunrise, in silence,
you still lovingly braid my hair,
tripartite, over, under,
mother, maiden, crone.
The golden rope, frayed, now shot with grey,
surely I am the ancient of days.
My breasts are moss-covered stones,
my belly, slack and spongy.
But all sorts of clouds have silver linings.
I have grown dense, stubborn, more tender.
I've learned to work outward from a molten core,
coming out from under the crust of the earth,
dusted with rice powder and pollen.
I imagine our stained, lumpy bed
as our flowered bridal bower.
You return, at twilight, to untwine my braid,
riding its waves to the end of the world
where second sight and liquid dreams abide.
You speak first, with muted calm,
not from inner peace but from a willed need
to gather our disparate selves together.
Ah--that we have come this far!
Childhood tales only begin at happily-ever-after.


Written for: "Stormy's poetry newsletter & contest" 





To be published in the winter issue of goblinfruit--http://www.goblinfruit.net