The Princess and the Pauper

The Princess and the Pauper by Michael R. Burch for Norman Kraeft in memory of his beloved wife June Kysilko Kraeft Here was a woman bright, intent on life, who did not flinch from Death, but caught his eye and drew him, powerless, into her spell of wanting her himself, so much the lie that she was meant for him—obscene illusion!— made him seem a monarch throned like God on high, when he was less than nothing; when to die meant many stultifying, pained embraces. She shed her gown, undid the tangled laces that tied her to the earth: then she was his. Now all her erstwhile beauty he defaces and yet she grows in hallowed loveliness— her ghost beyond perfection—for to die was to ascend. Now he begs, penniless.