She had no voice of her own to lick the wounds
of her offspring—sprung off and over the cliff.
One by one, like lemmings, they follow in line

behind a leader who found their place behind
someone else who learned as much as anyone
how to play a game from those who came before.

And someone else before that, and before long
no one remembers the reasons why, or what,
and regret is there to greet us. To greet her

with a tipped hat and deep maniacal laugh
like the end of some fairy story gone
horribly wrong. How do you explain goblins

gobbling up the dream princess to a child? 
She wants to tell children not to get in line.
The only safety net she has ever known

is one that catches you as long as you fall
in the right direction—forward and toward
the resounding bang of being trapped.