fallen radish
My feet were wrapped up and folded at seven,
toes bent like soft twigs being snapped by large hands,
the heel dragged forward, the arch broken
on purpose.
They call it a golden lotus,
three inches.
Mother winding the bandages tighter each dawn
so the bones would forget themselves
and my feet would forget their dreams
of running.
Felt like splinters,
like a bright animal caught in a trap,
and they remarked how delicate I was.
Finally.
How small,
how worthy of a doorway I would never pass through alone.
Splinters, and glass, snapping little twigs with every step
until the steps grew few,
and it became apparent why I wore
such a small shoe to begin with.
Still,
is it ever enough?
Will I swallow chalk and poison for a different gaze?
White dust patted over my face
ground into cream,
until I am this marble ghost you all desire so dearly.
Pure,
untouched by the sun.
The blood in my cheeks,
gives me a healthy flush, don't you think so,
Mother?
She looked away by the time my gums had darkened,
and my hair loosened its grip on my scalp,
and a tremor moved into my hands,
by then it was your problem,
Your perfect porcelain doll
slowly dying,
but I was no Simonetta Vespucci
and not every woman is beautiful enough
to be made immortal.
I wonder if she needed
a drop of belladonna
to burn her gaze into his mind.
My pupil swallowed the njghtshade,
the black lake widening,
until my vision began blurring at the edges.
That doe-eyed, dolly eye look
is in fashion,
and I thought of how useful it might be
not to see all of those suitors
assessing my value.
Beauty is pain,
blind and disabled,
but at least I am beautiful enough
to no longer lie awake
wondering how much of me could be traded
for a glance held half a second longer.
honest jewel