Cinderella upon Remembering Bruno


Her hands

down by her sides


Also her drink of choice

and how she speaks to

the bartender


Her subtle, slow

I’ve got all day


Her soft, worn t

shirt, with the ironic team

player number “0”

and letters “mvp”


After pints jokes

shared fears

enough flirting to

bruise my


I press into her


She tastes like

Clove Gum and


she smiles while

she kisses me


I touch her jeans

She exhales and

whispers to me, “wait”

I feel her pocket

there’s something so

hard and sure

I reach in, find

lint, sand, stardust


A dog biscuit.


Shoot, she says

I gotta let him out

I’ve got to go

My fingers trace

the letters

m-i-l-k b-o-n-e

as she exits the palace


I am the hopeful prince

without footmen

no one to trumpet

my spousal search

or midnight departed

hook up


Roaming the blocks

in the evening cool

In search of a house

with a dog and

a girl who

makes me suffer



Ambling along

I worry the biscuit

with untrained

hands, silty crumbs

powdering the

pavement with



I am part prince

part stray


back to the bar


Elbowed by

the memory

of her

mouth on mine


How she kissed

my neck

breathed me in

gently bit


left her wet

mouth mark

IMG_3889Judith Taylor is a professor of Women and Gender Studies at the University of Toronto.

featured image by Antonella Stecco