A Tale, in Which My Tongue Casts a Spell by Lannie Stabile

My tongue is a scarlet witch tucked
deep between misanthropic lips. I
beg the hag for an incantation, a
love spell presenting the match that
will burn my faults like tinder.

My offer is gold
Her acceptance is teeth

Each word pronounced deliberately,
vowels rolled out like plush red carpet.
But without the support of bone, my
jaw is shapeless and luckless. Fledgling
flames stutter and collapse.

My cackling tongue caves in on itself
Magic is there, but so is sabotage

Lannie Stabile, a Detroiter, likens the process of creative writing to spanking ketchup:  grueling, but necessary. Works can be found, or are forthcoming, in The Hellebore, Rose Quartz Journal, Cauldron Anthology, Monstering, and more. She is penning a novel and chapbook, and recently became Contributing Editor of Barren Magazine.
Twitter handle:  @LanniePenland

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