the last straw she spun to
gold before falling into a swoon,
finger pricked upon the spindle,
glaring step-sisters pleased at such
a coma, leaving the field clear,
for them, so to speak
to have at all the eligible
princes carrying their coffers of
gold, cutting through thorniest underbrush,
vanquishing dragons, answering riddles, and carrying
out all manner of princely duties
while their old fathers, the Kings,
balanced their budgets on the
back of their peasants, making them stretch
their black bread a little longer, as
Hansel and Gretel were
turned out into the forest and
our spinning Princess sleeps in quietude,
immured from the carping harpies
who would steal her children from her
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