Ends

candy houses, she suggests, are a good place to start. you'll find no witches, of course. only the children they never got to eat. and the walls the wolves have built to keep them in.

the beginning is all fireworks and blood. the tremors of anxious skin. stuffing color into these grey boxes. the infection of hope spreading.

the middle is tentative. shaky crutches on shifting earth. eyes on the cusp of the mountain. as the child teases forever in a shudder of falling curtains. between the fragile and the stiff is only what we are. soft and thready shackles unable to keep us tied down.

animals. convinced the stars are watching us. that they have what we want.

the sun rises. she sees the world for what it is. strays in the garbage. chasing the fickle scent of happiness.

the sun sets. she sees. that the world ends every day.