Shine on; the death of a frog prince

Published in blackbox manifold

After he croaks
I skin him

And soak his body
In saki

For a week. Then
I dust him

In salt, pepper,
And the very same

Breadcrumbs left
On the forest floor

By Hansel slash
Gretel. Poor kids,

Now they'll never
Find their way home,

Grow up, fall
In love and have

Their little hearts
Pricked. I start

The fire and slide
A skewer through

His yellow belly.
Splash. Elide. Splash.