Allister Nelson’s version of Snow White, posted at Heretics, Lovers, and Madmen, blew me away.
The elven knight went riding with banners alizarin
as berries in snow, his face wan, lovesick longing.
Haunting his dreams was a snow-laden lass, fair
as a dying rose, iced into clarity by shattered glass.
In twos, in threes, went the Faerie Court, bells on toes, Gabriel’s
Hounds baying in the wasted harrow, to humble hut the elf knight goes.
“Oh but who art thou, fair visitor?” said the peasant girl,
her hair gray gold, her eyes pale, lips a frostbite plum.
The elven knight let his bridle down, and from his pockets
he’s taken an oath ring, and on bended knee he’s gone.
She was poverty-light, bird bones, high small breasts,
and she said “Twas better bread you gave me, fair elf.”
“I have no use for gold, to grow cold and
old with the dead in fairy mounds.”
“I have no…
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