Throwing Glass Slippers

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She felt like Cinderella, before the evening

gown glittered or fairy godmother granted wishes.

Not the Cinderella with horse drawn carriage. Before

any tiara wrapped around that hard, hair sprayed up-do.


She felt like Cinderella, wrapped in rags

mopping grimy floors. Days spent on dreams, wishes.

Cinderelly, whom mice called mother. Slopping

soapy suds and handkerchief held hair.


The princess in house slippers. Worn, seams plucking

peaking bare toes. One true love

of laundry, heaping.

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What Do Women Want?

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I want to start my blog with an AMAZING poet and the poem that makes me fall in love with writing over and over again.

P.S. I’m sure I will figure out how to make these pages nice and fancy in no time

What Do Women Want?

I want a red dress.I want it flimsy and cheap, I want it too tight, I want to wear it until someone tears it off me. I want it sleeveless and backless, this dress, so no one has to guess what’s underneath. I want to walk down the street past Thrifty’s and the hardware store with all those keys glittering in the window, past Mr. and Mrs. Wong selling day-old donuts in their cafĂ©, past the Guerra brothers slinging pigs from the truck and onto the dolly, hoisting the slick snouts over their shoulders. I want to walk like I’m the only woman on earth and I can have my pick. I want that red dress bad. I want it to confirm your worst fears about me, to show you how little I care about you or anything except what I want. When I find it, I’ll pull that garment from its hanger like I’m choosing a body to carry me into this world, through the birth-cries and the love-cries too, and I’ll wear it like bones, like skin, it’ll be the goddamned dress they bury me in. –

Kim Addonizio