“In This One, Snow White Stays in the Glass Box”

once upon a time, 

an old woman with wrinkled hands held out an apple.

“try it. take a bite.”

snow white smiled, shook her head. she pushed the apple away.

“an apple is eighty-five calories.”

 

who is the fairest of them all?

there is grave dirt under her fingernails, in the pockets of her size zero jeans.

she is always cold.

there is power in beauty.

there is power in ribs jutting out, bruised skin, black coffee, thin wrists.

 

who is the fairest of them all?

she knows this. the queen knows this.

snow white: the fairest of them all. of course. of course she is.

blood red lips, thin raven hair, glass bones ready to break.

her body is a heart attack waiting to happen.

she is her very own acrobat, walking the wire between the living and the dead.

see how she performs so beautifully.

 

snow white climbs into the glass box. she is home here, encased in cold.

she, who does not need an apple to feel powerful.

she says: i am thawing.

the queen says: no, you are dying.

the queen looks into the mirror.

 

who is the fairest of them all?

the cycle continues. the prince never comes.

the queen stares into her mirror, hungry, always hungry.

snow white stays in the glass box

with her glass bones and hollow heart.

she smiles.

 

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Me
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