Rapunzel Explains the Tower

She said "to keep you safe" and I understood.

She'd had enough of men's wild hands

in the rampion and parsley, one more garden

besieged. Here, only women spoke.

And no mirrors — nothing to make me question

the softness of my skin, the redolent body.

But he came, as they all do,

through the window, all dash,

claiming to love my voice.

One day she found him clinging

to my hair and sent him packing.

She noticed the new swell of my girl's waist.

She knew the danger of 16–year–olds

with golden curls where I was going.

So she came at me with scissors

and turned me out into the world. It was blinding.

In the desert, I heard her words,

that no prince would be my rescue.

I wrap my baby in silk, smash the palace mirrors.