If I got to live in a high, high tower
in a black forest and away from
backyard fantasy
I would have round pink walls and round
red pillows silk everywhere
and would cut my hair shorter and shorter
of course I would have gold-framed mirrors on the walls
and I would weave my hair into doormats
eat star fruit and bananas
maybe a pigeon if the witch thought to bring me one
and no one could climb my hair and no one
would dare to dare.
Because it wouldn’t be there.
1998
I like this one.
Makes me wonder what was going on in your life when you wrote it…
I thought it was cute, though, a nice wrap up.
It worked nicely, and I’m a sucker for a good wrap.
Stephen: Thank you!
Mike: Actually, I was a newlywed. As far as this poem having something to do with what was going on in my life, it would have been a retrospection of sorts by the time I was writing it. But that makes it sound way more interesting than it is.
I like that you’re weaving your hair into doormats in a tower with no doors.