Issue No. 6, Autumn 2013

(the Evil Queen’s song)

Lisa Lepovetsky

I will not sing of the moon
she is too round, too white:

a pale mouth
keening beneath dark waters

silent, though night ripples
her craters like lace, like love;

like the silvered mirror
I hate and fear and need so much.

She is a raging fleshy beast
swollen with too much to lose,

a giant teat of icy milk
no newborn babe dares suckle.

Hers is music that kills.

She is my wintry refrain
cast in silver to die again

and again she is so pale, so heavy
burnt so white with my pain,

she is an albino apple
I dare not eat.

She cannot be put into words
to echo through dark hollows

or clamor from rusty bells;
her light is no safe beacon

across tattered waves
and shattered empty highways.

She will not love me
She will not lead me home.
I cannot sing her name.

Lisa Lepovetsky has had poetry appearing in such publications as: Spoon River Quarterly, A Voice from the Hills, Air Fish, The Crow, and many others. Her fiction has appeared in several anthologies and national magazines like Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. She teaches for the University of Pittsburgh at Bradford and Penn State/DuBois.