Cinderella

When I remove my royal robes,  

pluck the pearl buttons,  

and slip into everyday clothes —  

I am still Cinderella.  

The glass slipper  

waits for me always  

on the staircase.

Even the midnight chime  

cannot divide me from my dreams.  

You are my prince,  

and a thousand clichés  

float between us yet never wash away  

my longing  

for the silver lake  

where I drift toward you.

My ship of pleasures  

is moored to the pier of land —  

and though I conquer desire  

again and again,  

within me lives  

the pull of the full moon  

shining through us both.

This fire  

has no wish to hide.  

Only my betraying body  

distorts my voice,  

wrinkles, rusts —  

and from me you can draw  

only secret tones,  

the silences  

of a distant woman