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The Dwarf

by: Molly Sutton Kiefer

I ate an apple, and it protested,
little worm devoured my insides.
I ate an apple, two strong bites,
and it came through me twice.

Snow White had her little dwarfs to keep her,
preserve her under glass, a specimen
they fantasize about at night.

Sweeper, singer, baker of pies,
she kept the shortest men happy.
I string cramps, stings
along my spine.

I’m plugged into something I can’t control,
panels lit by organs: heart’s glow,
deep sparkle of lung cavity,
steady pump of intestine.

Creatures creeping at night, reshaping me into being.