The Queen lures me into her castle,
and like a child I want more more more.
Nothing matters but that desire
for the tender meat of sugar
mixed with starch.
The sugar dusting
sticks to my fingers
as I sit in a kitchen jail cell
under no lock, no key,
no guards at all.
I’ll sit and eat and eat and eat.
By the time my siblings find me
the sugar will hold me together,
the sucrose covering my skin
and internal organs,
making me just as much a statue
as the stone ones the witch creates.
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