Spindled

Over land my suitors came, bloody
before they hacked at thorns
to get to me, no one
had told them I was

a lazy child, took to
my bed often, spat out good food
served on golden platters. 'Oh Briar Rose'
the King would say 'our pretty
daughter lights up the world!' Drunk.
I wiped wine from my lips.
As much sugar as I could swallow
hung from a threaded bag
around my wrist.

Until they found me sucking the smoke
from a candle, pulled me
by the hair over guilded tiles. Ditch Witch.
Anything wrong, anything rotten, at risk, sharp
taken from me. So unfair,
even my corset ribbon cut
with a long blade.
As if I would.

Asleep, subjects hollowed
out my mouth with their fingers. Rawrubbed
me clean. They cut my hair, gave
my split ends
to the birds. No one
would have me now. They made sure

there are some things you
never wake up from