Gretel’s Confession

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There was no witch.

There were days and days of wandering

and heartsickness.

There was one small loaf

and two hungry children.

There was his face, baby-fat

and so innocent

I couldn’t help giving him my share.

There was the part of me that hated him

for his stupid questions

and the lies and lies I told him softly

to keep him safe.

There was a cabin covered in moss

that I told him was a kind of candy —

if we chewed it enough, it would become sweet.

He believed me, set about his eating,

then slept the easy sleep of the safe.

I started the oven without knowing

what had been set loose in me.

I stroked his arm, not yet thinned,

I rubbed his child belly.

He woke up and asked, What are you cooking?

Why don’t you go and see, I said.

He turned and walked toward the fire.

He leaned closer and closer,

and I reached out my hand — for what,

I couldn’t say.