EDWARD GAUVIN

—Cinderello, why do you sigh?
—The wind outside makes moan and my heart mourns.
—Cinderello, the wind is silent and stirs not a leaf. Why do you sigh?
—The blood of all the animals I’ve killed glows red in my memory.
—Cinderello, in your memory is naught but the cool breeze on your cheeks, the crisp dawn grass beneath your feet, and the pond’s misty mirror. What is your sorrow?
—The loss of my beloved mother surrounds me with lament.
—The loss of your beloved mother never drives you from the books you both so cherished. Cinderello, you are lying.
~ Pierrette Fleutiaux, “Cinderello”