Jane Zwart

Freud and Grimm

I no longer upbraid the angels
for what angels can’t unbraid.

Of course the dreadlocks
we backcomb into being--

love ratted, fear teased--
perplex the sexless harpist,

plucking fingers callused,
pageboy halo-bound.

. . .

For us, yearning is a plait
that can be eased apart

only at the beginning
of the story, only so long

as our mothers unweave
and brush our crinkled hair.

. . .

But there is no denying
frisson. 

. . .

  There is no denying

that Rapunzel draped her hair
over that rough sill, wanting,

and reeled it back, recanting
want, a hundred times

before the saw-toothed bricks
at last dreaded her mane,

before she decided to side
with desire.
         And no denying

that the prince trembled
when the blonde ropes

slapped the wall beside him
just like a cat o’ nine tails.

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Jane Zwart's poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Poetry, Ploughshares, Threepenny Review, Rattle and TriQuarterly, as well as other journals and magazines.