Because I am Snow White’s Mother Pauli Dutton

Because I am Snow White’s Mother

“My Own song of Fire and Ice” —Jeannine Hall Gailey

I am every forgotten woman praying to see the maiden who once stared from her reflecting pool. Instead, I see death, ugly endings. I refuse to relinquish my role as star of my stage, to be clothed in decrepitude.

They’ll never steal my pearlies and aggies, assassinate my husband or me. I have no chosen headstone. No plot lies ready for shovel. No celadon urn awaits its alcove to fill with ashes.

My Roth IRA reclines in a bank, gathers no coinage, only dust like a museum piece, the wish for a ticket holder’s glance, a comment, Isn’t she well preserved? I spray-paint mirrors, wear a Noh mask to conceal a face once more sublime than Snow White’s. May she grow old in a castle of shattered looking glasses.

Beyond the crossed yellow tape, a “Not Dead Yet” sign will sag my bosom as a recorded message howls, There’s nothing to see here folks.

Pauli Dutton