fractured Snow White sestina by Mab Jones!
Imagine Snow White with her colors mixed up:
eyes black as coal and lips white as snow,
hair red as the rose that blooms in the glass,
that once filled her throat: the color of stop.
Her bracelets are scars, her necklace a rope
of clear plastic beads that look just like tears.
Seventeen years but her body’s fresh snow
marked by deep tracks, by the burn of the rope
she pulls to bring the shy vein singing up
like a river from the arm, to fill the glass
with its red plume, via the needle that tears
at the flesh. She has no power to stop
using, or being used. They bind her with rope
and sit there like kings, commanding her tears,
music to them as they move mounts of snow
through trumpeted notes. They beat her up
and laugh, laugh again, when she begs them…
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