Issue 1 - June 2020
Because Bluebeard is Real By Molly Thompson
You saw him in the village, Quaint smile, walked half a mile Just to see his place. What a place! Heavenly space! Dripping with sapphires, rubies, and pearls. Each time you passed him, simple words, little twirls Just to see him smile. yet your face, another in the pile. No matter. Lots of work to do today. Seasons change, colors fade. What hue grows on his chin? From class to class you worry and spin Your focus is elsewhere paid.
Collages by Audrey Rauth (left to right) From Home From Cloud Nine From Afar 11
Then one day he walks right in No note, no letter, but with a small grin. A key that falls, a wardrobe rattles. And blood that tracks from his shoes, it coats the key-Is it blood in his beard you see? Blue turns red, you turn white And your body backs into the dresser, Feet hit bed. Blue bristles get closer, You close your eyes instead. The door ies open, Annie’s sharp voice, hands withdraw Retreating footsteps tell you it all. No harm done, really nothing at all.
