Published in Ambit 175, selected by Henry Graham and Julia Casterton (2004)
Rapunzel
From my tower I can see
the tops of the far trees.
I can see them coming,
one by one,
these half-dead men.
Curiosity fires my blood
and I burn like a beacon
in my high room.
Sometimes they come in twos
and lie in wait,
avoiding each others eyes.
Rapunzel, they say,
let down your hair.
And so I do.
I do as my senses bid.
My charmed locks fall,
grazing their faces and they climb.
Each one more trusting than the last;
each one more sure.
My daring grows,
drawing them in
with octopus feelers.
