“I’ll kill you,”
said the queen,
wrapping the shawl around her shoulders like
the wind could steal it away again;

“I’ll kill you if you
touch my daughter again”

with her hair wild under her crown
and her teeth dirty
the prince believed her

even though the princess was seventeen
and cold as dead as marble
upstairs in her palace room

“I won’t,” he promised
and left to find another bride
one who smiled

“He left, Mama,” said the daughter
even though her lips were
cold blue and didn’t move
and her arms were stiff by her side

“I know he did, baby,” said the queen
as she lay down on the bed
next to the princess

their crowns tangled together like spider webs
their blood stopped in their veins
their hearts all cold and broken like glass

they stayed there
until one day the prince returned
but then

“We’ll have to clean this up,” he said to his wife
“it’s so dusty up here.”