they'll send you on fool's errands
because they want the gold, the princess,
everything to unfold the way they
say it will.
so you live under the hill through sleet
and snow and cover yourself with
the blowing leaves not knowing
they'll deceive you endlessly,
if you let them.
soon you'll do anything not
to upset them.
and you'll go on
mowing the endless lawns
of the great estates;
waiting on fairytale banquets,
napkin over your arm and set to serve;
and glisten when they say to you
one foul word as if that meant anything.
and maybe they'll crown you
jester for a day and you can put that on the mantle.
or hold a raffle where the candy trees sway
and give you half a bone so you won't gnaw them.
and you, when you wake up, will rue the day
you ever ever saw them.
mary angela douglas 13 january 2016
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem