Snow White Takes South Beach

The Iowa Review - - NEWS -

It’s not sin. No boy could love the ghosted moon-pale skin I’m in, but I’ve got new flesh un­der this. I strip to bra & slip & let the noon sun touch me any way it wants. It’s the bet­ter burn I’m af­ter, my shins & thighs shocked pink & slick as a hog

roast­ing on a spit. I want hands on me. I’ve been an out-of-fa­vor princess long enough to learn that any­one’s will do. The sun-stroked skin blanches white be­neath my palms, heat-sick and spent. I’d be a fool to hope my long-lost prince could see the beauty

bloom­ing be­neath my rosy blis­tered skin. That’s fine. I’ll make the world again my­self.

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