Room 102

Maybe she was at peace,
dimension jumping in dreams,
grateful for the apple and the rest
from endless dishes and tiny stitches in tiny shirts.

Did our Prince stop to consider this?
Would he have if he'd known, could have bitten
into his own enchanted fruit and seen
the years spread out before him
like a wrinkled sky?
Most likely not.

As Snow White slumbered, free from
the tethers of insipid genres,
he kissed her.

What if that kiss had shown her, in
her heightened state, all that would be?
The entireness of it sandwiched between
one glimmer of lips to lips...

could it be that she was awakened
not by the kiss,
but by the horror?

But awake she did.

Perhaps the horror
was better than sleep.