Hansel by Claire Rubin Scott

Why does she get all the praise
just because she pushed the witch
into blood-burning flames
it was me who gathered shiny white pebbles
glistening like promises
under a gibbous moon
it was me who scattered breadcrumbs
not my fault they were eaten
by a murder of crows, slick and black
it was me who the witch was fattening
waiting like a flesh-eating ogress
with taloned fingers and frenzied hair
it was clever me who offered her the scrawny bone
instead of my fleshy finger
it was me, clever me, who whispered to Gretel
tell the witch to show you how to check the fire
all my stupid sister did was push
that’s it
and by the way there was no happily ever after
for me, living in the shadow of my sister’s fame
watching her on the Tonight Show, seeing her bestseller book
at Barnes & Noble, Take Back Your Power
while I sit in a sunless apartment in a ragged robe
six months behind in rent
unable to sleep despite the pink pills
for nightmares, the blue ones for bitterness
picking at Top Ramen with shaking hands
slopping yet another glass of Gilbey’s Gin
on the sticky carpet
building row after row of houses
made of gingerbread

gingerbread house with tiny red car
A Tasty Looking House by Pete (flickr.com). CC license.

Claire Scott
Claire Rubin Scott is an award-winning poet who has received multiple Pushcart Prize nominations. Her work has appeared in the Atlanta Review, Bellevue Literary Review, New Ohio Review, and The Healing Muse, among others. Claire is the author of Waiting to be Called and Until I Couldn’t.

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