This poem was inspired by four fairy tales – can you name them?
The course of true
Love is dislocation.
I cross the border into you
And the room uproots and twists.
The gray world, dull as Kansas,
Then the darling house splits its sides
And we lift, leaving everything behind
Riding on air, second star to the right.
But the Neverland moon fades and the night
Turns into the insides of something living, scary,
Smelling of blood.
We’ve been wolfed down
Into the belly of the beast, stuck
In the pit of no way out until the knife
Rips clean and we crawl through –
For a moment free –
Before we fall down the rabbit hole
And it gets curiouser and curiouser,
Not at all what it was like to fly,
Until we land on solid ground
Somewhere between lost and found
As your lips leave mine.