Black Fairy Tales: Cinderella

By Chin-Yer

I never believed in magic until I
watched my cousin transform into a crackhead
I grew up reading of the fairy dust
that seemed to shoot out of the wands of witches and
fairy godmothers
now I wondered if the white shapes that bounced off
The black sticks
had been
As I watched what had been our city’s Cinderella
Transform to someone wearing rags
Holding a glass pipe
like a glass slipper
Face covered with dirt before midnight
Her neck and wrist once covered in pearls
Now she walks the streets,
the collector of a different white rock
wearing clothes, scraps
four times her size or
maybe her body
Had shrunk
She was now one of Snow white’s favorite dwarfs
kneeled at half her size
Top of her head facing a strange man’s waist
My friends had told me one day when I wasn’t prepared
That she would do anything for a hit of the pipe
I remember how fast she used to walk
Up and down the street, hands filled with
Stolen CDs for resale
Carrying em up and down the block, swinging them like dumbbells
The way she used to hold her school books years prior
I never believed in magic until I saw how
Our street’s evil white queen put a spell on her
There is no ghost scarier than crack, once it possesses
Your loved one

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