castles and crumpets
live in a glass castle
on top of a glass hill.
a castle, mind you,
with glass doors and glass towers—
none of that nonsensical dithering about glass houses
that aren't grand enough for me, anyway.
am the princess of this castle,
which means you have to do whatever i say—
like rubbing and scrubbing the walls
til my hand slips off the sides,
because i don't want any of your dirt
and dust where i live.
castle must gleam and glisten
and glow in the light that hits it at noon
and scatters rainbows across my dress
and splatters across my reflections
that would never appear to their best advantage
in a mere glass house.
it must be castles and courtyards for me
because who'd like to live in reality
and face the world, day after day?
i shall live in fantasy and do it in style—after all,
one day your house will blow over, but
nobody's going to throw rocks at mine.
day, i'll invite you over for tea
and you'll see what kind of brilliance i keep company with—
glass knights and ladies-in-waiting and gentlemen
who were never actually gentlemen, of course
(though i can't say as much for the rest),
but none that cared to offer me a pony.
oh yes, we'll take a stroll in my gardens of
lilies and larkspurs and lilacs
dotted with a rose or three for good measure,
and i'll let you kiss my feet and serve me crumpets
while my minions polish the blossoms
that are more beautiful than thou.
someday i'll take a nap and wake up
to a glass prince who will offer me the world
and i'll say, 'no thanks, i like where i am just fine, thanks—
but if you'd like to stay, my butler is just leaving
and i'll treat you well if you don't leave fingerprints and hey,
where are you going anyway?'