Merry,
she skips along
Picnic
basket in hand
On her
way to Grandma’s house
Red
cloak flowing out after her
Like
an echo of laughter
He
follows
Padding
silently
From
tree to tree
Behind
her
Watching
When
the witch comes
With
her shiny apple
He
leaps and tears out her throat
Before
she can approach the girl
This
is not your fairy tale
When
the bears come,
Three
in all, great to small,
He
chases them away with
Bared
teeth and raised hackles
This
is not your fairy tale
When
prince and steed come
He
harries and harasses them
Snapping
at fetlocks and ankles
Until
they flee in white-eyed panic
This
is not your fairy tale
When
the dwarves come
Looking
for a housekeeper
He
runs them off, biting
The
slowest one in the ass
This
is not your fairy tale
When
the fairy godmother comes
They
watch together as
Grandma
greets her at the door
And the
wolf smiles, pleased
This
is not your fairy tale, either, or mine
It
is, and always has been,
Hers
And
hers alone