There’s a circle of PETA protesters picketing
my castle because I’ve been squirrelnapping
woodland creatures to teach them how
to vacuum. Somewhere something
is happening, if only I could teach this pumpkin
to drive a stick. If I sleep for a hundred years,
will you kiss me awake? It’s just a short
climb up my hair to the top of my tower,
but I won’t tell if you take the stairs.
These rose vines make me sniffly,
but I’ve got magic in the elastic band
of my shorts. Believe me. I make the best
poison apple pies, a spoonful of sugar
and a dead mother to taste. Don’t listen
to those dwarves with black lung,
the weavers starving in the streets mumbling
about how I burned their spindles,
the man claiming a witch turned him
into a clock and I made him sit on
the microwave and beep when my popcorn’s
done. I don’t even eat popcorn. He knows
that. Take this glass slipper. Put it on
my foot. It will fit. This time, I’m sure of it.
CL Bledsoe is the Assistant Editor for The Dead Mule and the author of a dozen books, most recently the novel Man of Clay and the poetry collection Riceland. Originally from a rice farm in eastern Arkansas, Bledsoe now lives in northern Virginia with his daughter.
Michael Gushue runs the nano-press Beothuk Books and is co-founder of Poetry Mutual/Vrzhu Press. His work appears online and in print, most recently in Beltway Poetry Quarterly, the Michigan Quarterly, and Gargoyle. His chapbooks are “Gathering Down Women,” “Conrad,” and “Pachinko Mouth” (from Plan B Press).
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