Song of Snow, By Amanda C. Davis

"Snow White," by Marianne Stokes
Editor's note: Amanda's poem grabbed my attention because it focuses on a coffin, feasting, and dancing. You don't always seen that in works inspired by "Snow White." Amanda's fabulous book, Wolves and Witches (World Weaver Press), which I raced through and loved, is currently available. She co-wrote it with her sister, Megan Engelhardt, whose work has also appeared in EC.

My love's skin is a snowy plain,
Her hair a burned branch.
Her lips are berries.
Rise for me, my love.

Up from the grave my lover raised me,
From the gold glass coffin he drew my limbs.
His arms are the arms of a prince;
His hands are the hands of a son of kings.
His face is the sunrise, his hair is clouds of gold.
His lips are berries new on the vine.
I rise, my love.

Come to the feast I have laid for you,
To the wedding feast in my father's hall.
I have bathed your hands in perfume
And covered every table with sweet fruit.
You are a vine of grapes across a fresh bower.
Dance for me, my love.

The dwarves dance in the courtyard.
My mother dances in the snow of the courtyard
With poisoned apple in her throat,
With strangling ribbons in her hair.
Her shoes are irons burnt red by fire.
My mother's feet are coals in the snow.
My love is just and strong, a mighty prince.
Let me be boughs of sweet fruit in your arms.
Dance for me, my love.

Lie down with me, my love.
Your lips are berries,
Your hair a burned branch.
My love's skin is a frosted field.
I have taken the dwarves from your knees,
The coffin from your face,
The poison from your throat.
You are bundles of myrrh in my nostrils,
Sweet grapes on my tongue.
Dance with me, my love.
Dance until the fall of snow.

Amanda C. Davis writes dark fantasy and light horror. You can visit her at or follow her on Twitter at @davisac1.


  1. I love the image of the queen dancing in the snow--very arresting and creepy. Well done!

  2. Lovely. I always find the resurrection of Snow White so strange. I love how you play with this in the poem.

  3. Powerful imagery from Amanda, as always. The final stanza is going to haunt me the most. Snow White's identity is decided by the prince, which is a scary, but logical conclusion based on a story where the prince wanted her coffin for selfish reasons. There's lots to think about in this piece.

  4. This is an interesting poem. It sounds to me like the Snow White is saying to the prince who had “rescued” her and saved her from near death with the poisoned apple. I like that the author stuck with the original story of Snow White. After knowing that the Disney version of Snow White is not the original version whenever I see other versions that are out there or branches from that version it lets me down. So the fact that this is from the original version helps the poem to be better overall in my eyes because it sounds truer. It is interesting that the author used the poisoned apple and put it in the mother’s throat as sort of a give here a taste of her own medicine type of thing on top of forcing her to dance in the iron red hot slippers as well. TG