Diagnosis in Reverse
First, the witch turning from the door
made of spiced cake
and sugared almonds. Then the birds
offering the bread back
to the forest floor, the children
skipping backwards into the gaunt
yawn of the house as the mother’s
long hunger begins
to soften, her hearth dark with smoke.
And then a spark,
the children in the back orchard
eating apricots heavy
with juice. Pale cream in a bowl. A vase
of primroses. Foxglove stirring
outside the open window. The father
coming up the summer path, easy
with evening. Hansel humming.
Fresh bread and long light, long light.
—Kate Gaskin
—found in 32 Poems (Summer 2018; Vol. 16, No. 1)