She pours glitter out of the glass slipper.
Ridiculous thing, sweat filled, fragile and unyielding.
With a moment’s further pause..
She hucks it and its mate straight
into the Sea.
Maybe there, in salty, living brine
they can return silica to sand,
or, at minimum, make homes
for lonely crabs looking
to entertain the holy wisdom
within their ocean-loving neighbors.
Glass slippers be damned, She mutters,
and skips off between broken waves and flattened
simply to find her own fleshy rhythm.
Perhaps for the first time.