Issue 4

Poetry

Lauren Schmidt

Pinocchia


...instead of my nose
it was my boobs that grew.

But I hid my womanhood
until it hued like paint

on snow, dripped
from my ears you pierced
to make a girl out of me, curls
in my hair like Goldilocks,
lock-jaw dumb about my donkey ears,
blind as a cat to my ugly duckling,
but I sprouted my swans...

...and when my boobs were done,
it was my butt that grew.

Disguisted girl-self lie
grew to a whopper—
of an ass—I couldn't make go away.
Spun straw-skinny from a bale of hay,
except my rumples and my stilskin,
better for little boys to see me—
little pigs want their houses blown in.

...but when my butt was done
it was my mouth that grew.

The mouth of a whale, dark
inside, I wished upon stars
awaited blue-haired fairies
for that one day my prince
will come, unhood
my little red-riding, break
from the belly of the big bad, wolf, break
from the hungry whale, break
from the oven, follow my glass slippers
to the City of Catchfools
where a man made a woman out of me.