Snow White

          I’m not sure he knows who I am, since his ever closed eyes never glance up to mine, but he calls me Snow White nevertheless. “You’re a soprano and you’re white as snow,” he says, then claims he’s a poet. But I think he’s a liar.
                   “But you’re not like that old hag of a stepmother!” he retorts when I tell him that I am. “You’re too nice.”
                   Too nice. Too helpful, compassionate, caring. But no aid comes from my meddling in forbidden affairs. I imagine that one day I will feed him the poison apple. Pass him a dose and with a hush, I’ll whisper it’s good. I’ll tell him what to call the apple, and he’ll laugh. “What does that stand for? Little Silly Ducks?” But then, when he breaks into the fruit with hesitant jaws and tastes the bitterness melting into his own flesh, he will he witness the blinding colors he’s only touched, envision the objects his fingers have only read about, like a priest who’s preached but never seen.
                   But the boy will not see the clouds I described for him, the two-faced bodies in the sky who seem to catch you but are only thick and fake like make-up. Most likely, he will not see me either and the paleness I possess for which everyone ogles and stares. So in his frustration, he’ll gnaw at the apple, try to push it down his reluctant throat, force it into his system, choke and drown in the poison. His heart and good judgment will refuse. They’ll shut down, collapse in the struggle against his desire.
                   Later he will be rushed to the ER. They’ll pump the poison out and he’ll breathe again. Except he will not open his eyes to those shocking, revealing hospital lights. Nothing will make you face your sins quicker than death does. So I will apologize when I visit him as he lies prone in the hospital bed, more vulnerable and weak. He will not understand what’s happened, and it will pain me too greatly to try to explain it to him. Then he’ll ask, “What for?” when I’ll tell him that I’m sorry.
                   “For pretending to be your Snow White,” I’ll say.