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Snow White to the Prince

 after Susan Thomas

Truth is, my life was no fairytale, 
that afternoon, I lay, a smiling corpse
under a glass sky, a rotten apple
lodged in my throat like a black lump
of cancer, your sloppy kiss dying on my lips.
Did you really believe a kiss could cure the poison galloping through my veins, as you stood there, with your ugly white horse, the voices of dwarfs buzzing like flies in the apple-scented air? I wish you could see me now, how I take to the sky, a witch without a broom, an empty black silhouette with stars for teeth, spooking deer into briar patches, swallowing the shadows of trees.
I wish I could slip into my beautiful white flesh, just once, my pretty white feet stuffed into black slippers, my poisoned-breath fogging up the smiling mirror.
If only you could see the light pouring from my skin.
If only you could hear the songs my bones sing.

Poem by Chris Tusa
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Book: Shattered Sighs