I lay in flocculent comfort,
Whispering silken gowns,
Cloistered in my
Castle, which would swiftly

Come to waste.
My satyn skin
Hinted rainbow hues,
The wisdom of the oryent

Threaded through my veil.
The warm thickness of
My walls contrasted
The frozen volcano

Around me. A pure rondure,
I lay in the womb of
My mother, to be
Plucked from the gap.

They came, the divers,
Crunched open
The walls, they pried me
From my mother's

Shell. Dug deep and found
My maiden's virgin body. Palmed
From my castle
And out on a thread,

Somebody's neck. No wedding with
Pandaia. Mortal, where my wicked
Stepsisters of Botox and casuistry
Jibed and jeered, for I was

Orphaned, and they birthed
From shiny steel glaciers,
Two sides of the same equation,
If the slipper fit.

I mourned, tears for beauty,
Lament, I sang, aria,
For the scales of nature and science,
The crooked game.