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Posts Tagged ‘rumplestiltskin’

Among your duties, pleasure is a thing that also needs accomplishing.
            —Tony Hoagland, “The Word”
 
 
Perhaps it looked like I was dancing,
but I was being danced, was being twirled
by some great mystical spinning wheel
turning the straw of my thoughts into gold.
What a gift to have a body, to be alive
on a night when the sun is warm
and the grass is green and the mountains
are not yet tinder dry and the music is joyful
and the minutes slip through the hours
like page after page of happily ever
and there is no imp to be seen, just
the glory of brass shining in the air
and the miracle of hands clapping
as if applause is the only response that makes sense,
and the only thing the world asks of me
is to love it.

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Corrupt, of course,
what all of them did,
bartering with daughters,
promising too big,

expecting too much,
skipping out on the bill,
wanting more than they needed,
telling tall tales,

but there’s one thing I learned
about gold being spun
out of straw, though strange,
it can be done.

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All this must be spun tonight. —The Brothers Grimm

She does not care
that the gems
are not real.
She wears
the necklace
and feels beautiful.
She does not care
that the shoes
are not true glass slippers.
In the low angled sun
she slips across
the scuffed maple floors
and dances in clear plastic shoes
bought on sale at Target
to music that only she can hear.
She hums and twirls
in the dimming light.
She is not like
the miller’s daughter.
She knows how,
all by herself,
to spin what is useless
and cheap
into gold.

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