Sleeping Princess, he’s calling me
thinking I will respond.
100 years, my name is forgotten - I am more fiction than truth.
(Exile at 16 does that to a girl)
Coma-sleepers hear it all,
and I have heard them all trying to claim the prize,
the weak, the strong. The curses and wails,
enchanted thorn stabs & dragons. How much death?
100 years of nightmares
of my prince finding a hag for a bride.
I can not feel if my muscles are atrophied.
I have been virgin longer than is healthy.
I almost had a lover once. 15 & feeling
the curse of my sleep weigh heavy, he was 16.
The way he kissed made me weep for the denial
of pleasure’s full measure.
So here it stands. 100 Years Of Solitude,
Love In the Time Of Cholera & now
there’s a man shouting “Sleeping Princess”
like a predator, coming closer,
forgetting my name but holding the keys to my castle.