The Fairest Queen
My stepdaughter’s cheeks do not show even a
whisper of crimson, yet her lips are
stained blood-red. Sometimes I want to crush
her porcelain flesh in my palms and dance in
its pale dust. Sometimes I melt into blackness,
shrinking into a midnight, feathery sparrow
and soar over the thorny, crooked limbs of trees
consuming with my crescent-curved beak all sleeping
souls. I feast upon the meat of the weak and feeble.
I devour kidneys and livers through cackles.
I know only echoing, shadowed hallways,
striking grandfather clocks and enraged
reflections. I see the deep rivers that wind across
my skin and I want to shatter Mirror into jagged
pieces. I bathe in the treacherous winds of my kingdom,
craving to dig my claws into my stepdaughter’s chest
making juice from her heart, squeeze it to a pulp until
it becomes as cold as glass and my pores drink up her youth.
Samantha Brodsky is a sophomore Writing Major at Ithaca College in Ithaca, NY. She’s from Ridgewood, NJ and aspires to get her work out there in any way she can. Running through her veins is a combination of highly caffeinated coffee and creativity.