you told me a witch devoured little girls —
a warty witch,
a cackling witch,
a hungry witch,
hungry for little girls.
Little girls with quick tongues
All the better to eat you with, my dear, their piquancy dancing on her molars.
Bones would be no barrier — only
to be sucked dry,
sinuous tongue licking them clean,
rusty marrow staining her goldenrod teeth.
Little girls like me.
That was unspoken (unless the glass cracked, and the words etched themselves)
little girls grow up and cast away
No longer do my bones creak with the thrilling terror
of being emptied, but Mother,
I wasn’t devoured by the witch.
It was those glass words,
swollen with your
swallowed me whole.
Anna Cabe is a MFA candidate in fiction at Indiana University. Prior to moving to Indiana, she was a 2013-2014 Fulbright Fellow in Indonesia. Her work has appeared in The Toast, Racialicious, and Mangrove, among others. She was a semi-finalist for the 2015 Kore Press Short Fiction Award. You can find Anna on Twitter @annablabs.