The sunflowers growing next to the allottment
wall might be beanstalks in another universe.
There, I could climb them and into your bedroom
where we might crumble like gingerbread houses,
tasting the sugar and allspice until the giants
came home and you reverted back to Cinderella.
Of course, cutting down the beanstalk might be
an option, but I've always been useless at forging
weapons - you know that - and the whole thing
might come crashing down - you included - unless
one of us grew our hair like Rumpunzel, plaiting
into the world's strongest rope, enough to outdo
moaning Atlas and make everything straighten up,
even my hea