when the dark queen spoke, 
her mouth stiffened
like a warped and gnarled root

her bitter words became a spell
that spilled its seeds on barren ground
we watered with our tears
for years
until they sprouted and grew into vines
that twisted in our guts and choked our hearts

we wandered in that tangled landscape of our longing
while our tears turned into vodka,
the parched ground became hospital sheets,
and the seeds morphed into pills
that stifled any hope of happy ending

and then one morning
our children climbed up the gallows
of our lost and broken past
and asked us why

Image: Diane Perazzo


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