You were the wolf, the witch, the unnamed monster in the woods. Instead of blood offerings, the townspeople left you woven baskets full of waxy red fruit. I left myself: red cape and fiery virgin blood.
I was the one who lifted my hand and knocked. I had black hair, dark as a raven, and the dress my mother had sewn for me. You saw me just the same: my already curving hips, my waiting breasts.
Cream City Review is a print journal of fiction, nonfiction, art, and poetry published biannually in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.