Of God and Grimm

Of God and Grimm’s

Grasping at pearls, feather fingered

The holier than thou stretched out her delicate arm

Hands that fancied themselves to the right of god

Closed innocently around a mouth-watering herb.

One bite, one small taste coaxed her

With a surge of heat, opening her like a shy bud

Arousing in her belly, dark appetites for more

Thus our false eve comprehends the divine shrub.

The fire of the spice inflaming her core

Pouring out from her eyes, masking her sight

The blurry mirage lights the green with a halo

And she mistakes it for the One Burning Bush.

Euphoria, that this humble maid had been chosen

As Moses by God!

But this serpentine herb knows no God

For it is of a Grimm sort, Rapunzel.

Delirium, blending bible and bestiary, guides her hand

To part the seas, rocking hips are oceans

Who’s salty hides collapse

Folding sighs of pleasure into bottles

The glassy walls of displaced water

Ensnare Narcissus incarnate as she passes

A single pause to beg the question

Who is the fairest in the land?

Deeper than the heroine’s hunger

A creature carves her insides

Until rounded like a melon she beholds herself

Not Mary mother of God, but Magdalene

The ground below her swollen frame

Beats with the pulse of ocean organisms

Gasping to death without the sea

Victims all of her misguided act of faith

The righteous light of perfection fades

She looks finally to the deceptive herb

Clear eyes behold the horror that the burning

Awoke and died within her mind

Alone.

Love and God evaporate

What she has grown belongs now

To the Rapunzel’s gardener

A small bundle fit for a fairy tale

She staggers hollow and leached

To hold back the sea from crushing her

Though Ophelia Immortal would look well

On such a beauty as she

The animals among her naked feet are her red carpet

Death precedes her halting passage

Towards salvation from this wet salt

Towards ash and sand

She arrives back on earth, tiger-striped

Waves harass her hair and she is stretched

symmetrically prone, grotesquely alive

Stigmata appears in scarlet letters

She stands, insane, trading her mind for survival

Clambering onto a throne of children’s books

Blinded by biblical cataracts, scar tissue from the hellfire

A mad queen hiding in her wonderland

I bring no vorpal sword to end her rule

But set my venom in apples worthy of Eve

To seek reparations for the souls of the ocean

Torn apart when her blind faith split their world

Those eyes that comprehend me now

Belong to a Buddha without his lotus

A soul unworthy of martyrdom

The apples fall from my basket

Not far from me

I cannot kill beastly beauty

For the magic mirror would turn my way

Creating me in her image

Alone as she.

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