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Fairy tales have rules. You are a princess or you aren’t. You are pure at heart or you aren’t. If you are pure at heart, or lucky, you might catch a break.

Richard Siken

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Richard Siken
Age: 57
Born: 1967
Born: February 15
Poet
New York City
New York
Break
Princess
Might
Fairy
Heart
Catch
Tales
Rules
Aren
Lucky
Pure

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We laugh & it pits the world against us.
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I'm bleeding, I'm not just making conversation.
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I am singing now while Rome burns.
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The entire history of human desire takes about seventy minutes to tell. Unfortunately, we don’t have that kind of time.
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I sleep. I dream. I make up things that I would never say. I say them very quietly.
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Sorry about the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine. I couldn't get the boy to kill me, but I wore his jacket for the longest time.
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I wouldn’t kill your pony. I’d like to believe it, anyway. I’d like to believe I wouldn’t drag you out in to the woods and leave you there, either. So far, it hasn’t come up.
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I don't know where I end and the world begins. My best guess? Skin. It's the only actual boundary between the body and the world, between a body and any other body.
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Moonlight making crosses on your body, and me putting my mouth on every one.
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You wanted happiness, I can’t blame you for that, and maybe a mouth sounds idiotic when it blathers on about joy but tell me you love this, tell me you’re not miserable.
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You see, I take the parts that I remember and stitch them back together to make a creature that will do what I say or love me back.
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Here I am in a rabbit run, here I am in a valley of pine, waiting for you to find me. I could pretend I’m speaking to everyone—assume a middle distance and transcend myself—but I’m taking to you and you know it.
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If you love me, Henry, you don’t love me in a way I understand.
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Here I am leaving you clues. I am singing now while Rome burns. We are all just trying to be holy. My applejack, my silent night, just mash your lips against me. We are all going forward. None of us are going back.
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You’re falling now. You’re swimming. This is not           harmless. You are not                     breathing.
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Sometimes you get so close to someone you end up on the other side of them.
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We can do anything. It’s not because our hearts are large, they’re not, it’s what we struggle with. The attempt to say Come over. Bring your friends. It’s a potluck, I’m making pork chops, I’m making those long noodles you love so much.
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Tell me about the dream where we pull the bodies out of the lake and dress them in warm clothes again.
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Is that too much to expect? That I would name the stars for you? That I would take you there? The splash of my tongue melting you like a sugar cube?
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You are playing cards with three Jeffs. One is your father, one is your brother, and the other is your current boyfriend. All of them have seen you naked and heard you talking in your sleep. Your boyfriend Jeff gets up to answer the phone. To them he is a mirror, but to you he is a room.
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