Tag Archives: fairy tale

the secret of the cow’s sorrow

31 Tuesday Dec 2013

Posted by in Illustration and art, Poetry, sonnet

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Dec 31, 2013 (10)

Dec 31, 2013 (11)

Dec 31, 2013 (12)

I had never seen a cow crying big
wet tears before but the wood fairies caught

each one and a bat and a small hedge-pig
came out to comfort her. Then the tide brought

in a girl the color of kelp, a star
set in her brow, on the back of a beast.

I took the tears, walked out on a sandbar
to greet her. “Take me with you, to the east

and make me your lover, I’ll brush your hair
and sing all the songs that I know.” But she

said no, for what does a mortal child know
about the Sea Queen? “Love, do not despair,”

she said. “When you drown I’ll find your body
and then you too will know the cow’s sorrow.”

again again again

01 Tuesday Oct 2013

Posted by in Feminism, Poetry, sonnet

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But my mother’s mother, Maleficent,
widowed from her first love, and that love’s first
ripe fruit, moved through her father’s realm, torment
in her heart, her native tongue, being cursed
as all fairy tales curse us with ruin.
Again. Again. Again. “Find your magic,”
grandmother replied at each doubt—her one
dictum, fed with her green fire and sapphic
faith. She spoke so little of pain that we
forgot that she was a widow with no
regret, practiced in delight. I recall
all her stories, of heroines scrubbed free
of men’s curses. Tales where not one widow,
crone, step-mother died—just burned for us all.

metal never forgives

25 Wednesday Sep 2013

Posted by in Poetry, sonnet

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all the ancient classic fairy tales
have always been scary and dark.
—- Helena Bonham Carter

How much cold can you abide? If you kissed
me now you’d hear how the wind mews and talks
to you. Across the tundra of this tryst
you called me, like the warmth of a snow fox
in the endless night. I come from the west,
dreaming about blackberry juice; roughly
watching it trickle down your chin. Tongues pressed
tip to tip, although warm flesh on icy
metal never forgives. Little candle,
moppet, June spark, I would lick the hoarfrost
from your breasts, if I could; I think you’d just
sputter, though, warmth being such a fragile
play thing. How far will you go, my star-crossed
flame? The winter dark is my name for lust.

kai and the snow queen

02 Saturday Feb 2013

Posted by in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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That day Kai got into a curious
white sleigh, driven by a woman in furs.
“Man-child, make me warm,” she said. Her hairless
body was blue ice. “Come taste your mother’s
milk” and smothered Kai between her pale thighs.
She let him taste her only twice: the first
to numb him from the cold; then to baptize
the boy’s face in an aurora-like burst
of mist. “Come. I will have you mine, I want
the heat of your cock now.” Is it wicked
to seek out what we lack? A ghost will haunt
for love. The Snow Queen for Kai’s burning blood.
Would she melt when he geysered inside her?
The thought made her smile, urge the sleigh faster.