
-freelance writer, editor
& published poet-
Alexandra S. Thompson
Old Money, no. 3
The family had three girls who
would stage Grimm fairytales
in the backyard
Babies’ breath, blond hair and knotted bed sheets
crumpled little faces, knees thought too knobby
the middle child always
played the male lead
Alight my steed, fair Rapunzel,
We’ll soon be far from here.
Beneath the chattering of excited
suburbanites furnishing their first home
to look old,
sadness echoed like a lost thought
across the field.
The realtor would see to that, wouldn’t she?
The market as it is has enough ghosts.
Rapunzel, in the midst of the jabbering crowd,
looking much older
nibbles on a Saltine.
Grandmumsy always told us –
Chew forty times before you swallow
her third husband counted.
Late night special toast for the sleepless
two with butter, please then
Momma’s screaming in her dreams again
twenty-four
Darling, it’s not yet time to swallow
forty
All three were always slim, but her little
nightingales grew skinny and wiry
More like snakes, who when
scared of being stepped on lunge and
strike an unsuspecting victim.