Falada, Falada, thou art dead, and all the joy in my life has fled —“The Goose Girl” collected by the Brother’s Grimm
good morning, my little pony— your head numbers the front
door so i may always find you. may i plait the maypole
ribbons streaming your mane? for shame, you cannot speak
with plastic purpling in your maw. i basket this collection
of your parts for decoration— when my magic animal’s
tongue went lick to quick & final loll, i stopped
sweeping the fur-corners. un-cinderella of me to frame
your urine-stains with violets— i am against scrubbing
the only existence of your evidence. new rheum signifies death’s
waxing. yet, here i am waning with sobs,
my misery hair-twirls your rigor mortis. each day i leave
a whisper in your ear— i’ll say no goodbyes with these charms
oozing to prove my ardor. once you sang
a song that parted the geese into flight. now i fear
they will freeze— no loud sound
to jolt them to a warmer sky.
griefwilt/gravesick
for Barnabas
diagnosis: an off-stage swan lake performs my under
eyes. my devastation as a ballet shoe laced around organ-
flesh. bless this emotion that dances itself sick, collapses,
& fastens its skirt for the next act.
causes: crusted with sunlight, daffodils mock
the way you died in slow motion. a beast near mythical
christ-slumped in the grass. shadow-like, i am no longer
a person in one part.
symptoms: my bones cathedral around a heart-
cake, eaten & still beating. it was for your cancer
survival celebration. the word forever piped
into imaginary arteries. i wardrobe my ribs open
& wish the stars into crisis.
treatment: fables. stories where lions & the crucified
come back up for air. the thought that maybe you might,
too. then the drain of a bathtub. they will say there’s
renewal in all of this, but i think i’ll always wear your funeral
in ribbons around my neck.
side effects: my skeleton may split & sprout wherefore-art-thou?
balconies. under no circumstances should i call out
your name. tears let down their long hair. i’ll call a doctor
if a curtain descends & a daguerreotypist appears. even
flashes of light smell of wet dog.
aspic made of magical thinking
i swallow the pixie-dust from my bedroom
eyes & swan boat eyelids—
a flume of tears at every roadside
cruelty. enchant the heads
back to the highway
deer & watch them take flight.
opossums & voles rise to perform
their choral “i want” number &
it sounds like affect blunting. i add
edible glitter to sharpen the mixture.
my therapist says i am so hungry
for every possible guilt. in my third-tier
intrusive thoughts, i aspic
these anti-fantasies with peas & carrots,
unflavored gelatin, 2 cups of tomato
paste, & a single hot dog, julienned.
center the mold on the table—
a ballgown from which i can pluck
both barbie legs & hard-boiled eggs.
another magical thought:
the fairy godmother says it is not
my fault the sardines
stopped swimming, but the devil
on my shoulder says this concoction
may eclipse my wish
for even more wishes.
Kailey Tedesco
Kailey Tedesco is the author of four full- length collections of poetry. Her most recent book, MOTHERDEVIL (2024), is out now from White Stag Publishing. She teaches courses on Gothic literature and writing, and she is a member of the Horror Writers Association. Recently, her poetry placed both first and second place in the Science Fiction Poetry Association’s 2024 Speculative Poetry Contest. You can find her work in Electric Literature, Fairy Tale Review, Black Warrior Review, Epiphany Lit, The Journal, Driftwood Press, Passages North, and more.
Tyler Champion
Tyler Champion is a freelance illustrator and designer. He grew up in Kentucky before moving to New Jersey to develop his passion at The Joe Kubert School of Cartoon and Graphic Art. After graduating in 2010, he headed back south to Nashville, TN, where he currently resides with his girlfriend, Melissa, and his son, Jude. Tyler has produced work for magazines, comics, design companies, and children’s books, including work for Sony, F(r)iction, Capstone Publishing, and Tell-A-Graphics.
