if sleeping beauty didn't wake up 

we would say
what kind of girl's body
doesn't open by the mouth?
she had to have been
a whore or some kind
of night stepping wanderer--
what kind of girl doesn't
open like a hinge?
what kind of girl sleeps
through the want
of a prince?
& he would walk away
like all boys do when
they don't get
what they set out for--
across the kingdom 
the story of a prince
so wronged by a sleeping
woman would become
the story they told their girls
before they fell asleep--
to not be frigid & slumber
like the sleeping princess
who didn't know how
to wake up from her mouth--
who didn't know that on
her body was mapped a
boy's plot line
& awake in bed the girls
would fear sleep itself--
they would share stories
stories by the moon &
ask if each other had ever failed
to wake up in the morning--
but some girls 
some girls 
would want to find her--
they would take backpacks
as if they were going to 
school-- fill them with maps
& notebooks--
they would rip their stocking 
on briers & carry their slippers
in their hands & they would 
make their way over
the mountain ridge
at the far end of the kingdom--
following the persistent
blooming of hydrangeas like
the forest itself was blushing--
there in the depths of the trees 
she would lay-- wrapped
in vine & branch-- a body
embraced by ivy-- blooming
with flowers all around
her-- her face a tulip bulb &
the girls would stand in
horror & relief to know
that it was true--
that they didn't have to
wake up-- that there
was a body whose sleep
was so deep that not
even a boy could force her
to rise--
between themselves they
made up tales of what she had been
dreaming of all this time--
they said that she tamed dragons--
at she was a witch & a goddess
& a mother & a girl &
one of the them said that 
maybe she dreamed of a
princess who would come & kiss
her & she wouldn't have to
wake up to be in love with her--
they would leave offerings at
her feet-- handfuls of smooth
stones they had collected when
they crossed the brook &
dandelions which can always
serve as approximations for
a flower--
they would kiss her feet
among the brush &
they would leave without
another word-- back over the mountain
ridge back to homes &
cottages where they would sew back
& not sew the holes in their
stockings & sleep heavy &
so full of dreams 
that at times they felt
as if maybe just maybe
they would not wake up--