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Rachel Giddings

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From a perfectly ordinary sister

Cinderella?
Yeah I hated her, sure.
Well she was so bloody pure
and demure
and bloodless
I could spit.

Such a delicate flower.
All peaches and cream.
Skin clean and white
as a blank page,
mind smooth and empty
as a winter landscape.

And that was the crunch.
That pristine, virginal,
untrodden snow quality
drove them mad.
All of them desperate
to be the first
she yielded to.

And then what?

Loose the flashy tights,
gleaming steed,
chiselled profile and fancy
pedigree and they’re all the same.

Princes, paupers,
honest-but-simple woodcutter types,
all wolves to her pie-eyed
lambikin simplicity.

So we dressed her in rags,
hacked off her hair,
blackened the porcelain skin with ash
trying to give her a dose
of gritty reality.

But then he came along and ‘rescued’ her.
Rescued ‘her’!

But then pretty princesses
always get
the happy endings.

Hate her?
Who wouldn’t?



Untitled illustration


Page(s) 24-26

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