Ki Russell

Gretel Grows

Gretel Grows

Ginger shavings slipped under my nails

mornings found me coughing wads of icing

I cut my palm and molasses beaded from the wound

                                                                                    Yes, I shoved her in the oven.

                                                                                                No, she did not lock my brother’s cage.

My skin dried and flour crumbled in my elbows

I dampened myself with buttermilk and smoothed

my edges back together

                                                                                    I ate her left thigh before my brother joined me.

                                                                                                We were never lost.

The moonlight and summer heat leavened me

pulled me out of bed, on the lawn I expanded

stretched into a wall for each breast each shoulder blade

                                                                                    We hid from my stepmother.

                                                                                                She fed us no cookies.

My forehead sloped into a chimney

my eyes blinked open in transparent sugar panes

I see in four directions at once