My mother poisoned apples. My father hid his heart inside a tree. It was a family thing, dealing death and dodging it. I don’t have time for subtlety. I tried being quiet; I pretended to sleep. I tossed a twig and grew a prickly thicket ‘round my house. You cut it down. I call lightning … Continue reading Not your princess
They call me ugly because I am different. They call me dangerous because I am wise. You begged me for fire. How could I refuse, you with your mother’s blessing and a woman’s smile? I gave what I could. I would have loved you, my beauty, had you stayed.