Think what it must have been like for her, caged
in her tower, the small window cut into dark
stone, the hours it took to brush
and untangle her hair, waiting for the prince
to come so she could let down her hair
and he could climb up to her room.
Think what it must have been like for her, lonely
and starved for attention like the girls now
who stare into their bathroom mirrors, brushing
and combing their hair, applying perfume, mascara,
skin softener, make-up, all in honor of the man who
will stand outside the window, their beauty a braid they
climb up on, their lives spent, breathless and silent,
waiting for a man to rescue them as though their own
hands were not strong enough, their own hearts not
brave enough, their own minds not quick enough for
them to save themselves.
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