The first spring lamb was born blind, and before the days grew full long, three women died in their birthing beds-one we buried with her belly still large, the babe stuck tight inside her. Midwife said there must be a witch in our midst, twisting shut the wombs with some black, black magic. She made […]
LIZ KAY’s poems have appeared in such journals as Beloit Poetry Journal, RHINO, Nimrod, Willow Springs, The New York Quarterly, Iron Horse Literary Review, Redactions, and Sugar House Review. She is the author of The Witch Tells the Story and Makes it True (Quarter Press), the chapbook, Something to Help Me Sleep (dancing girl press), and the novel, Monsters: A Love Story (Putnam). Liz lives in Omaha, NE, with her husband and three sons.
Everyone wants to know about the children, how they are and if they made it out. What does it matter now? Can you see there is no happy here, not ever after all? I, too, was a child once and wrestled my way out. I was one who was not devoured. Look who I am […]
It is no secret we are supposed to despise the witch in the traditional fairy tale, but while brutal, this witch is not lonely, nor is she pathetic, and we question whether her violence is unwarranted.