Tower Free Lock Free

Every morning in front of the mirror
I take the silver scissors
and cut my hair and my daughter's
shorter

the hand-maidens, the ladies
all snigger behind their veils
the queen gifts us with emerald-encrusted combs
pleads with me to stop this daily snip

my husband, my prince, talks soft in my ears
tells me we are safe

but all those years
I yanked brush through tangles
snarled in pain
all the years my neck bent
with the weight of wet
washed hair
all the hours sitting still
waiting within the spreadcircle of hair
a heavy cloak I could not set aside

It was not Dame Gothel's heavy climb
or you dear husband
that burdened my head
but the braided ropes tying my time in care

now my daughter runs hind-swift
and I, tower free lock free
gladly light-headed

Eve Rifkah, "Rapunzel After Her Marriage"