The Charmed Wife

Cinderella and the prince

lived, they say, happily ever after,

like two dolls in a museum case

never bothered by diapers or dust,

never arguing over the timing of an egg,

never telling the same story twice,

never getting a middle-aged spread,

their darling smiles pasted on for eternity.

Regular Bobbsey Twins.

That story.

Even a fruitful magic by degrees

Can wrap us in a dubious spell;

Tales that articulated mysteries

Now offer only ways of looking back,

As though across the ocean’s swell,

Or down alleys through the pine and tamarack.