Gretel Wises Up

by Nan Fry

Go back? Hansel, we have no home.

Remember when we went back the first time

following the shining stones you'd scattered

on the forest floor? I saw Mother's face

when she opened the door, and my heart quailed.

Oh, Father loved us, but he'd do whatever she told him.

Remember how she'd yell at him to beat us,

and he'd cut a switch, take us out back, and flail

at the linden tree? We'd scream and moan

and sometimes laugh so hard we'd have real

tears in our eyes when we went inside.

I should have thought of that when we heard

his axe chopping and chopping as the forest

closed around us. And remember our little sister

who never was? "Stillborn," Mother said,

but I know I heard a cry and then a silence

loud as our empty bowls. And still

we went back, following those pebbles

that gleamed like baby teeth in the moonlight.

And the second time—when you scattered bread crumbs.

We should have known we weren't the only hungry ones

in the woods. I saw gleaming eyes beyond our little fire

that night. The witch was hungry too, her house the bait

of a gigantic trap. She fed on our fear while she fattened

you up. To make me feed you in your cage!

But you were cagey too, and I was finally growing wise.