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I was laughing when I died,

picturing the face some future prince

might make when, having hacked

through giant rosebush thorns

and climbed the haunted tower,

he sees the spindle broken and the bed

unmade. We ran out at the last,

my virgin blood still wet between my thighs.

Let the spurned witch-sister

and the so-called fairy godmothers

duke out what history is writ.

Poor planning lets fate devour

the happy story here-and-now.

Destiny wants purity and light

and most of all submission, so

the scullery maid fisted me to ecstasy.

The curse broke like the chiming of a clock.

Time to grow up, unconcerned

by princess pink and bridal white. My passion

saved my life: city, apothecary's shop,

both a husband and a wife,

and grandchildren, bored, about my deathbed–

I would not have waited for a single man,

no matter what his charms,

for what I made with my two hands.




Mary Alexandra Agner writes of dead women, telescopes, and secrets. Her poetry, stories, and nonfiction have appeared in The Cascadia Subduction ZoneShenandoah, and Sky & Telescope, respectively. She can be found online at http://www.pantoum.org.
Current Issue
4 Nov 2024

“Did you know,” the witch says, “that a witch has no heart of her own?”
Outsiders, Off-worlders {how quickly one carves out a corner of the cosmos, / claims a singular celestial body as [o u r s] in the scope of infinity}
Lunar enby folks across here
Wednesday: The 2024 Ignyte Award for Best Novel Shortlist, Part Two 
Friday: A Place Between Waking and Forgetting by Eugen Bacon 
Issue 28 Oct 2024
Issue 21 Oct 2024
By: KT Bryski
Podcast read by: Devin Martin
Issue 14 Oct 2024
Issue 7 Oct 2024
By: Christopher Blake
Podcast read by: Emmie Christie
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Issue 23 Sep 2024
By: LeeAnn Perry
Art by: nino
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