In the Dining Hall of the Glass Mountain
“Who has eaten something from my plate?
Who has drunk out of my little glass?”
— “The Seven Ravens,” Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm (1857)
It’s your fault, sister, your fault we flew to the end of the world
beyond the stars, the sun and moon who would eat you alive.
Do not complain that the door unlocked only with finger-bone.
What’s fair is fair: A piece of you to return the pieces of us
Father’s unjust love scattered to sky.
If you hadn’t been so pretty pretty pretty, Father wouldn’t
have betrayed us. Now you’re one of us—nine-fingered,
of the earth—sit down, sister, and dine.
Mary McMyne is a poet, writer, and fairy tale aficionado living in northern Michigan. Her debut poetry collection, Wolf Skin (Dancing Girl Press, 2014), won the Elgin Chapbook Award. Her fiction has won the Faulkner Prize for a Novel-in-Progress, a grant from the Sustainable Arts Foundation, and other honors. Her writing has appeared widely in venues like Southern Humanities Review, Painted Bride Quarterly, Word Riot, Ninth Letter, Pedestal Magazine, and Chattahoochee Review. An Associate Professor of English at Lake Superior State University, she co-edits the journal Border Crossing. She edits poetry for Faerie Magazine. Visit her online at marymcmyne.com.