If there had been magic

by Sandra Davies

If there had been magic
The cellophane I held up so that light could shine right through,
while tug of caramel and nut still sang sweetly in my mouth,
its twist-creased part smoothed clarity, its richly purple glow
would become a robe of velvet, ermine edged,
sweeping majesty across a stone-flagged floor.

If there had been magic
The king would overrule, stern voiced, his crimson foil dressed queen,
dark widow’s peak misleadingly heart-shaping whitened face.
She’d softly speak to her liege lordly spouse, not haughty swirl her skirts,
while cherried lips spat stoney words that teetered on the edge of taunt,
imperious, insulting in the thrusting of her pearl encrusted gown.

If there had been magic
The king and queen would be united in their choice of suitor for their daughter.
And she would acquiesce, sweet strawberry joy.
Instead her pink stained skin is stamped with teenage tantrums,
her flounces deliquescent, flirting with her mother’s pirate king
and her sulks incense her father’s fledged but not yet full grown prince.

If there had been magic
The turquoise and silver trappings of the adolescent Prince
would have stiffened his soft-fudged and yielding spine.
Instead of which the princess fell for Black Jack’s flashing eyes,
his treasure chest of gold moidores, maps and bones and rum.
Full failed to see the villainy behind his pantomime façade.