after the ball

                (from my Cinderella poems)
after the ball

the castle was very large.
room after
drafty room, stone floors,
and windows tall as trees.

dark drapes
of royal crimson cobbled
up the light
in stingy spots,
shallow pools full
of cats.

in summer
the moat sat stagnant,
the smell of mud
and ducks
its real protection.

the drawbridge
rose and fell
to heavy chain-rattle
and thump.

when the prince was abroad,
she stood for hours
in the window,
motionless,
pretending
she was the stroke of midnight.