July 11, 2023
Still Life as Cinderella
Ask me about anything and I’ll tell you the truth
because a lie is nothing but a counterfeit hyacinth
softly caressing my fingers when I touch it
yet leaving no perfume to linger till tomorrow.
If you’re reading this and pretty pretend-flowers
are fine for your garden, maybe find another poem
since I only deal in what’s real, what steals air
from my lungs, knocks me to scabby knees again,
where I stay to pray for grace to untangle truth
for you, explain how I always feel it’s necessary
to charm, to humor, to enchant, to enthrall all
but never save one single souvenir for my mantle.
Even the glass slipper slipped away while I tore
through chandeliers shaking their heads and people
swearing they’d give anything to be in my silky gown,
selling the perfect prince a shiny new fantasy-in-blue.
I mean, do you ever wish your carriage could just be a
pumpkin again, a nourishing globe chock full of seeds
that won’t drive you to magical, glamorous anywhere,
just lock you in safely that first minute past midnight?
by Dana Kinsey
Dana Kinsey is an actor and teacher published in Fledgling Rag, Drunk Monkeys, ONE ART, On the Seawall, Sledgehammer Lit, West Trestle Review, MacQueen’s Quinterly, Viewless Wings, The Champagne Room, Hive, SWWIM, Wild Roof Journal, Prometheus Dreaming, and Prose Online. Dana's play, WaterRise, was produced at the Gene Frankel Theatre. Her chapbook, Mixtape Venus, is published by I. Giraffe Press. Visit wordsbyDK.com.