I was told there’s a fairy tale where all the daughters
heal their own wounds by completing their assignment
before midnight. Every Wednesday, the daughters set fire
to the village & everyone agrees the daughters should
burn as the summer & just as welcome. Look!
The warmth the daughters bring, an offering. I was told
every golden-crowned sparrow, if caught, turns into a fox
& the horses let out each Wednesday to escape the daughters’
flames hunt each fox’s secret. The assignment given
each daughter—get lost in the forest before midnight
& if it’s raining, their bodies—the foxes—glisten.
Their white-tipped tales used to be feathers & they beg
the daughters Wear me on your back, I am the trickster &
the wound, whatever your parents did/didn’t do.
