Dante's Heart
Megan Arkenberg
Snow White's Wedding
Look at her dancing,
said the first dwarf. Look at
the candlelight
turned black by her hair,
her satin-smooth skin
as white as snow. Look at the way
her gown swirls with the steps.
Yes, said the second dwarf,
look at her gown. A strange choice
for a wedding, isn’t it--
poison apple red?
And look at her mother,
said the third dwarf. Like ruby
and emerald, sapphire
and diamond. I tell you
that one was a fair sight in her day.
Aye, fair, said the fourth dwarf,
as fair as silver and gold;
but she cannot dance. A steady
diet of heart’s blood
turns even a Queen’s body
to iron.
No, said the fifth dwarf. Look
at her feet. Iron shoes,
poison apple red
and hot from the forge.
Who could imagine such a thing?
Surely not our Snow?
Ah, said the sixth dwarf,
but our Snow has changed.
Years in a glass casket
have taught her strength.
True love’s first kiss,
sweet and poison
apple red,
has taught her to be cruel--
and with such as that for a mother,
how can a Princess be blamed?
Yes, said the seventh dwarf,
none came blame our Snow
for being a little wicked. But what
will she do, I wonder,
when one day her mirror
no longer calls her
fairest?
Snow White's Wedding
Look at her dancing,
said the first dwarf. Look at
the candlelight
turned black by her hair,
her satin-smooth skin
as white as snow. Look at the way
her gown swirls with the steps.
Yes, said the second dwarf,
look at her gown. A strange choice
for a wedding, isn’t it--
poison apple red?
And look at her mother,
said the third dwarf. Like ruby
and emerald, sapphire
and diamond. I tell you
that one was a fair sight in her day.
Aye, fair, said the fourth dwarf,
as fair as silver and gold;
but she cannot dance. A steady
diet of heart’s blood
turns even a Queen’s body
to iron.
No, said the fifth dwarf. Look
at her feet. Iron shoes,
poison apple red
and hot from the forge.
Who could imagine such a thing?
Surely not our Snow?
Ah, said the sixth dwarf,
but our Snow has changed.
Years in a glass casket
have taught her strength.
True love’s first kiss,
sweet and poison
apple red,
has taught her to be cruel--
and with such as that for a mother,
how can a Princess be blamed?
Yes, said the seventh dwarf,
none came blame our Snow
for being a little wicked. But what
will she do, I wonder,
when one day her mirror
no longer calls her
fairest?
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
