rule me worthy, Lordly Flock, / fly low and cheerfully carouse.
Skeleton Woman bared the fisherman, slipped a finger into his warmth, retrieved the heart, clasped it to her core.
You want to say, they aren’t nightmares. You say, “I haven’t been alone in years.”
I can only remember how pale she was, how I wondered what weights she was carrying in her soul to bow her head so low.
our skin is cold cast iron, we don’t wear / precious stones, we stash them in the / toes of our stockings like penance
Within the tower there was no want for anything but soft gentleness and simple fire.
I would have a word / tucked under my tongue / that would crack a man's bones / until they splintered through flesh.
She thinks of / ripe tomatoes on the sill, an oven full of fruit simmering, / a fire on the verge of blaze.
See, she’s not scared of getting lost walking down some unknown side street—no, not when she’s walking straight toward the real monster on her own.
Her heart is always singing a song, always coming up roses, always aching to be touched and to touch in return.
Outside the snow sifted through the air like powdered sugar. Betty climbed from the baking table, crumbs showering the floor like a way home.