Featured Poem 3/1/02:
Cenicienta Visits Her Colonial Home
From inside the house, she continues to see the sky
after the stormy winds of the hurricane
proved stronger than the corrugated tin
that previously served as roof.
But Cenicienta waits, her faith intact,
telling herself three years is not really
One morning the Prince finally
figures out she's the rightful owner
of the glass slipper.
He rides to the front of her house, takes
her away in a carriage that does not turn
into a mango or a pineapple when midnight strikes.
Once in the palace, he solemnly hands
her the royal apron, explains to her how
to operate the garbage disposal and the microwave,
shows her the small, bare room next
to the kitchen and orders her to prepare dinner
for his five-hundred guests who will be
arriving at the palace in two hours.
Grateful, she slips the apron over her head,
faces the sterile chrome appliances of the kitchen,
the shinning, spotless aluminum pans,
the sparkling glasses.
The tumbling stars created when the light hits
the chrome and aluminum surfaces make
Cenicienta dizzy. Her eyes travel from star to star
and the crazy idea of catching some and keeping them
in her pockets just in case crosses her mind.
But the reflections spawning out of the sparkling
surfaces make it difficult to know which stars are real,
which are illusion.
There, the prince finds her two hours later
chasing the reflections of stars
and putting them in her empty pocket.
© Nydia Rojas
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