What happened to the other daughters?
The less beautiful?
Those who did not roll gold
or speak to frog princes?
Stuck on the corner of Bloor and Yonge
surrounded by clouds of ash.
This silence does not cease
and smoke in lungs becomes a sticky forest
where women die.
With no king fathers—
gathering alimony of the sound of wet feet
becomes common, and the only
animal is you—
This carriage breaks and breaks.
( from THE FROG KING, OR IRON HENRY)