once upon a time there was a girl whose friends dared her to go to to the cemetery and stick a
knife in the cold dead grave-earth and she died of fright.

that’s a story i read once in a book.
here’s another story for you.

once upon a time there was a crow-girl
her hair was feathers and her fingers were claws
and her bright-sharp eyes saw right through you.

and here the author interjects to tell you that a group of crows is called a
murder. interesting, isn’t it.

they called the crow-girl witch because she
danced under the moonlight and sometimes she
fed the wild-eyed cats that followed her home.

and here the children may wonder if she was really a witch and we respond
don't be ridiculous. magic isn’t real.

the crow-witch-girl kept skulls in her cabinets
and cracks in her mirrors and talked to her reflection
in the frog-water puddles on the side of the road.

and here the reader may ask how she found the skulls and the answer is
simple. she knew where to look.

the crow-witch-frog-girl went to the cemetery to stand
on a grave to prove her worth and she plunged the knife
into the heart-soil and screamed and screamed and screamed.

and here you wonder why she screamed and then you realize that you
already know. death does that to people.

the crow-witch-frog-ghost-girl has dull-dimmed now and
the wild-eyed cats go hungry and the frog-water puddles
go unseen and the heart-soil never stops beating on.

and here we ask what the crow-witch-frog-ghost-gone-girl wanted to teach
us. there is no answer.

after all, it’s only a story.

***

 Ilan Liebmann (he/him) is currently 20 years old, and a college junior. He studies the theatrical arts and philosophy. His writing is primarily informed by his identity as a transmasculine Jewish lesbian, but he explores a variety of topics, particularly those related to coming-of-age.