Peau D’ane - Stephen Piazza
Once upon a time,
Mother-twin of mine dies,
(As they usually do.)
Soon I begin to dream
Of asinine screams,
Perverted kings,
And fine-fabricked things,
Of wearing shoes I don’t fit into,
A groom I didn’t choose.
Daddy– DADDY! this is wrong,
Your kiss deeper than just lips is
Poison; do you not listen to the noise
Of courtiers, barons, fairy aunts, my Mama’s bones,
And most of all, my sacred, deafening NO?
Daughters are their fathers’, I suppose.
But jokes on you, my Daddy dear.
Here I sit, muddy faced,
Encased within the pelt of all my former kingdom’s
Wealth, and as I mix a batch of
Flour, unhatched chicks, a splash of milk,
I plan and scheme; throw in the cake a magic ring
For a woeful Queen standing o’er
The ailing body of a love-sick son.
It shall fit none
But finger mine, as they will find.
Before the court I will stand there
Bearing the tattered testimony of your sin.
They call me Princess Donkeyskin.
And marred I seem, ash-stained
With work and chicken-shit,
Face lined, full tired
Of men and crowns and family ties,
Beneath the hide I’m decked in dress
of three great bodies burning bright,
Saffron, spoon silver, wedding white.
With heart and mind I spun myself
a different truth, within the speckled Stars, the Sun, the Moon
I’ve gotten nothing pure from you.
Revealing this, the cooks, swineherds,
blacksmiths, spinsters, senechals,
All lowly folk of the demesne,
And Prince and Queen shall surely know
That ass and gold are just the same.
And free of shame, no longer sore,
I’ll live forever after happily.
And Daddy, all that shall be yours of me
is ill-smelling, putrid, skinless guts,
and from my flight the dust my feet kicked up.
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Stephen Piazza is a third year English student from Mount Kisco, New York. He has previously been published in ARCH (Fall 2024, Spring 2025, where he also served in the editor and managing intern positions) and Gandy Dancer Magazine (Fall 2025.) He writes about Catholic American experiences, Mid-Atlantic fairy tales, and men with strange pathologies.