The Queen

1. Letter to Mama & Papa

Marry me off Mama,

A man of your choice.

Mama please hear me,

Hear me

Beyond my timorous voice.

Papa, drown me in silk and lace,

Rope me in batiste, a necklace of muslin

Maybe you will see the glimmers of grace

Sparkles of hope in my face.

I may not have your blue irises,

My head is not tangled in your blonde locks,

But I swear,

Swear so violently my eyes do not cry, they bleed

I am worth the time on the clock

The food on your table

The love in your hearts.

II. The Unfathomable Gift

Ebony-framed glass

Shimmering with unseen power

Entranced my destitute soul

Ensured my devastating fall

When it uttered

“You are the fairest of them all”

III. A Blinding Light

Morning sun does not touch my face,

Midnight breezes do not animate my hair,

There is only the sharp rays

The overwhelming shards of euphoria

From the Glass.

The King is a secondary notion,

A wisp of smoke from a candle recently put out.

Mama and Papa are long since dead

I married a King Mama, Papa I am the epitome of wealth

Am I worth your gaze, if you care to look down?

The King’s daughter is sweet and beautiful like fresh snow,

Poor, wretched thing lacks my angles and edges

Motherless before me,

Motherless still.

I am weightless

I am alone

There is nothing but the Glass

I can heed no harrowing call

I am the fairest of them all.

IV. Abyss of Broken Glass

“Queen, you are full fair, ‘tis true, but Snow-White fairer is than you.”

I am plunged into darkness

Suffocating, slow darkness

A void of my own cultivation

Just a child, but she eclipses my light

She stole my truth

She broke my Glass

“Snow-White is fairer than you.”

It cannot be, I cannot bear it

Every ill word ever thrown at me bruises my frame once more

My resounding refrain shrinks to a pitiful moan

My shoulders crumple under the weight of my past

Weak hideous useless petty, a mistake from the start

Bring it to my plate,

Bring me her heart.

If she grows into the ground rather than the clouds

My light will come back

Mama and Papa will be proud.

Some twist of fate proves her unscathed

I will lace her as I once wished to be laced

I will have the warm curve and solidarity of a woman

Her bodice will squeeze her to her end

I will burn the ebony locks off her head

She will bite into her own demise

I will bring back my happiness, I do not care

“Snow-White is a thousand times more fair.”

And she is there

Despite my schemes,

She is happy and in love and fair

Things I never got to be.

V. Letter to Myself

I know not where you have gone

There is only the startling absence of light in the heart of a flame

The kind of darkness you cannot explain until you feel it burn your own flesh

I know not who you are

And it is too late.