Ridiculed among the villagers. Little teapot, short and stout. Little fireplug. Since I am slow and susceptible to kindness, the witch traps me easily. She makes bold promises. To unbutton my bulk. To bouquet me beautiful. To prime me, photo ready, for a prince. So I do not fight. She tells me thinness is next to godliness. She banners that shame until I surrender. I let her ladder me to the tower and lock the door. Turret me. Starve my mudflank, my curve and hedgerow. Brick and mortar me away from all pleasure. I let her shave my escape braid in dusk’s blue light.
by Donna Vorreyer
Donna Vorreyer is the author of Every Love Story is an Apocalypse Story (Sundress Publications, 2016) and A House of Many Windows (Sundress, 2013) as well as eight chapbooks, most recently The Girl (Porkbelly Press, 2018).