The New Snow White

Even the white
horse whose mane
you clench
hunched galloping
in fear
of ugliness, of crackling
death,
must be abandoned
at the black bog.

You save yourself running,
by accepting love.
Its scent is not
what you expect.
Its hands are dirty
or too clean.
It may not know
how deeply
you need watered.

You leave
your mouth
open.
An experiment. A kiss.
You watch
whether fronds
unfold again
over crispened feet.
Of course they do.

You are saved
yet save yourself
like the new
Snow White
written
into the world by new men
who have everything
to gain in your wakefulness,
green heroine.

2012