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There once was a millerwith a daughter as lovely as a grape. He told the king that she couldspin gold out of common straw. The king summoned the girland locked her in a room full of strawand told her to spin it into goldor she would die like a criminal. Poor grape with no one to pick. Luscious and round and sleek. Poor thing. To die and never see Brooklyn.(Rumpelstiltskin)

Anne Sexton