Sometimes you have to break out of dark towers with bread knife, tapping and sawing, until there is day and moonlight. Eat raw nettles for supper, then breakfast, tripping, tearing clothes through briars. Sometimes, you must whisper at footbridges, must in low hush sing to doorways—those nettles. The groom isn’t the prize. The prince didn’t save you. Freedom is worth blisters from knives more suited for butter than stone. Freedom is worth whispering and hush. And if you marry, thank the nettles, your handmaid, and the knife.
Kim Malinowski earned her B.A. from West Virginia University and her M.F.A. from American University. She studies with The Writers Studio. Her debut poetry collection is forthcoming from Kelsay Books 2021. Her chapbook Death: A Love Story was published by Flutter Press. Her work has appeared in Faerie Magazine/Enchanted Living, Eternal haunted Summer, Gone Lawn, AHF Magazine, Illumen, Door = Jar, Mythic Delirium, Mookychick, Enchanted Conversation a Fairy Tale Magazine, and others.
photo by Mimipic Photography, John Hagan and Ave Calvar (via unsplash)
Crow & Cross Keys 