[Poetry]Cinderella, let open your heart

[JetPlane]

I.
You used to scare
the grasshoppers into silence;
the moon would pause their fiddles,
"Hush... put it under..."
They'd slip beneath their sheets,
pressing their antennae against
your cheek, soothing you
with a brush on your neck
while they slip off your clothes,
(your eyes are glazed and you feel
like warm dew has puddled around
your feet, coalescing between your
toes)
Your perfect arch, naked and splendid,
dips forward and the hand awaits you,
your slippers out, pink and sequined,
your coachman kisses your hand
and you barely
feel it. He is already in the coach,
you can feel the inside flexing and pulsing
with his fluttered heart beat, your breasts
raise and your eyes close.

You wake up on his chest;
he pushes you aside when he realizes
that you're getting much too close.


II.
You wake up in the splintered light
and the door slides open,
your fingers heavy and damp,
bless you, bless you,
empty impersonal misgivings,
you regret giving him a piece of your mind,
because he just threw it
on the stove,
brought the water to a boil,
and ate it in his spaghetti,
slapping sauce onto his glasses
with the forced suction of noodles.
"You're such a bitch."
Your head whips back, you feel the way
your stomach moves, fat repulsive,
he'll never like you this way.
Change, change, change.
Wear make-up, bristle and tease your hair,
grow it out, be a woman, wear rouge,
don't kiss, never tell.
He bruises you underneath the table, you
spoke too soon.
You mutter "bastard" under your breath.
Your body regrets it for weeks.

III.
Move, shift, your eyes are glazed,
he touches you, gripping your hips,
pulling you against him, where he beat
you yesterday, he grabs you where his hands
left welts on your back, he bites your mouth,
pulls your hair and you go to the bathroom afterwards,
crying with a towel pressed against your bleeding mouth,
quiet so the children in the next room
don't hear, quiet so he won't get angry again.

You wipe your eyes, bring water to your face.
Closing the door behind you, he is breathing deeply
and you love him for being so beautiful
while he sleeps, while he dreams,
as vulnerable and naked as a newborn,
as the man you fell in love with,
and he forgot to be.

IV.
The grasshopper doesn't play below
your windowsill anymore. He used to
sit on his knees and play for hours,
you envisioned a caryatid above your eyelids,
closing them gently and you'd fall asleep
right before morning and he would be gone
by the time you woke up.

But, he doesn't play below
your windowsill anymore.
You find his body, crumpled and alone,
his fiddle kicked underneath a leaf
and the moon's tears moistening his lips.

V.
Unravel deep the grain
and follow it down until it stops,
sunshine and the children, a trail
of a white dress, a glimpse of blond hair
around the bend, bloodied knees and high-pitched giggles,
You loved them. Jessica was afraid of spiders
and you'd be her prince by spraying them with windex
from a distance, she'd cling to your side and look
up at you with eyes so blue, your breath would catch and water.

Dame loved dinosaurs. He would build models of them
late into the night and you'd come in
and he'd be asleep, the glue still in his hands,
his forehead lined.

VI.
The dreams are gone. You are incapable of
regrets. Where you are going, your children or your husband
or your life are irrelevant, but you love(d) them anyway.
Kiss me, dear sweaty, naked bloom,
before the tape ends.