mirror, mirror on the wall
who in the land is fairest of all? – Snow White and the Seven Dwarves
Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster, and if you gaze into the abyss, the
abyss gazes also into you. – Friedrich Nietzsche
triumphant Dictators waltzing in with both
heads held aloft
trumpeting their victories when
while treasure chests have burst at their seams
vaults can still be rented
where they are again
immortalised and savouring pride long gone
naked swashbucklers without being reminded of breaking their buckles.
virgins want to cast no coloured shadow in the reflector
that acknowledges their cubicled existence
rather prefer a stay in the anonymous dungeon cell
and its ceramic-tiled partitions
unlike certain parrots who perch up the highest rung and reign
with talons wide open, even on the shoulders of their giants.
yet all lasses eventually skip to the loo
(collectively because they are too afraid to face themselves alone)
dainty darlings who between hops and spins to draw applause
question their art privately in a studio of mirrors
isn’t ballet supposed to be choreographed so?
still when it comes to en pointe
all they can hear are commands to spread or lift
and work them for grunts of approval.
when exile comes via infirmity
they’re bestowed Her Majesties in lone thrones
abandon polishing to slice apple skin
vain attempts to prevent fair maidens from committing the same sin
but only divining one count behind or in front
condemned to the same time-lapsed pirouette dance.
