Trusting Our Instincts

I suppose his blue beard
was like trying to eat
green or purple catsup:

you know it’s harmless
but it just doesn’t feel right.
Then again, catsup isn’t
really cat soup. Sometimes
there actually are hanging
corpses behind the unnatural.

What's in a Name?

Promises are made
to be kept, especially
when first borns are
waged. Consultation
with fox and hare
becomes salvation
and the only thing left
is a name, and identity
leaping in shadows
from flame and magic.

We are all trapped,
gnawing off our
legs to save ourselves.
Divided in two,
a split between
shadow and self--
both live on,
now independent.
Rumpel will be just fine.
It’s Stilstkin that I’m afraid of.
We all should be.

Scorpion and Frog

Frog was generous
and ferried scorpion
across the river. Per
its nature, scorpion
was going to sting,
work its poison
despite all of those
amicable promises.

However

frog had its own
secrets, secreted
through skin. No
sting necessary
when you can sweat
your own poison.