Mountain of Glass
Steve Klepetar
A girl comes to a glass mountain.
She has been asleep a long time,
maybe for years, though her face
remains beautiful, unlined. When
she touches the sides of its steep
incline, she feels flaws, bumps
not evident from a distance, where
it seems to gleam in the sunlight
like a tiny star come quietly to rest.
Footholds in the glass. She knows
she could climb this mountain, even
without the enchanted shoes an old
woman gave her, just for sharing
bread, cheese and wine. Generosity
cost little, and the shoes so hard
and ugly with their long spikes
and clunky climber’s shape that she
would have tossed them into the bush
without regret. On the mountain top
a prince with the usual vacuous face,
deed to his daddy’s castle and marriage
license in his hand. But she was awake
now and hungry for more than this,
climbing a mountain of glass hand
over hand, muscles aching in her arms
and calves, her once delicate feet
anchored by nothing but the cheating shoes.
Steve
Klepetar teaches
literature and writing at Saint Cloud State University in Minnesota. His
work has appeared in many journals and has received nominations for both the
Pushcart Prize and Best of the Web.