Thursday, August 02, 2007




Jane’s Dream

A woman is trying to get me off her lawn. Her black beehive wig towers over me, a hostile ice cream cone. She tried shutting the gate, but I am already on the inside. We don’t want your kind here, she hisses. I have a message for your daughter, I say, warding off the blows of her pocketbook, my hands bloody. In the top story window, a hairless girl watches me. She chews slowly on the lace curtain. I don’t have a daughter, the woman shouts again. I know the girl is watching me, waiting to see what I’ll do next.


Terry said...

Gretel, now being part bird, ate all the bread crumbs Hansel dropped to mark the way out of the forest....

Christine said...


You are a poet! I'll do the pictures, you do the words.