The Innisfree Poetry Journal
by Kristin Berkey-Abbott
She watches her teenage daughter pitch
a fit, complete with hysterical
sobbing, door slamming, and screaming.
Some part of her turns to stone
as her daughter hurls nasty
accusations about lack of love and ugliness.
She thinks of the ancient fairy tales
with their adolescent girls left to slumber
for a hundred years. She wonders
where she could find a witch
to cast this spell.
She would settle for a tower,
her daughter locked up safe,
maybe with a spinning wheel or loom
to keep her fingers busy.
She thinks of boarding schools and pharmaceuticals,
the modern answer to the ancient spell.
She thinks of how quickly a blessing turns
into a curse. She pours the last
of her bottle of wine and waits.
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