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Jen ColemanGasps in Data
I go weeks without being reminded--I was a princess witch Despising my tongue in my mouth. There are many princesses in long skirts, mirror princess, moon princess, baby princesses touching in a friendly way taking an elbow in the crowd, cone hats with flowing ribbons, princess, sister to a princess, sister to a princess, and they dance with their palms together-- heads swiveled like a ball joint, cone hats spiral towards the queen. I was a princess witch, and I wore a prosthetic forehead. My forehead's skin grafted to a steel plate, my steel forehead grounded with a green wire. Princess ribbons tangle and release like a seaweed tide. Princess beliefs unfurl, princess curls, I see--- dance matters, behave like a moon, believe like a moon. Babies believe they see mirror-babies believing. To this a princess is vulnerable, vulnerable too. I was strange, I happened in a mirror. They wear hats in tall cones, the hats that make princesses princesses, with flowing ribbons and sleeves. I was the only princess with a real cone-shaped sloping forehead not giving in to morbidity. Copyright © 2003 Jen Coleman |