Rapunzel wasn’t just
trapped up high
she was pulled down low
by her heavy curls
on your knees
on your hands and knees
like a ray of light
tumbling out the window
reaching for the thorns,
the grass,
the rose

And our own Rapunzel
she wasn’t blind
she could see, could feel
herself as the flame
on our criss-crossed, mixed-down
pile of sticks
she was Jesus on an asterix

look out the window
reach with your mind
to the mountains and rivers
the trees and the mines
reach reach reach
to all the sides
you’re a compass that couldn’t tell north
from the sky

And Rapunzel was weak
with bones like meat
she could cut her white
little hand on a string
and she’d lowered her chin
and flip out that hair
like a beanstalk to the sky

like a stairway to the heaven
of her soft insides

Our Rapunzel could sing
and she could take pain
like a bird in a cage
like nails to her brain
and she’ll stand up straight
with her spine soldered solid
hard and soft and impossible

put her way up high
and low she’s too
beautiful
push and pull ‘til you fall
from the window
and blind with love
you’ll see what our prince saw
when he fell from her halo
into her crown of thorns