By Megan Arkenberg
In the forest that isn’t a forest,
the girl who isn’t a girl any longer
asks me the following riddle:
Unless one man leaves you, none will leave you.
Until you love a thing you cannot love it
properly. Every woman carries a scar
in the same shape
in a different place
on her body. Unless one man leaves you
none will leave you, but once the first rises
the others will follow, crows scattered
at the fall of a blade. What you would keep, hold lightly.
What you would lose, hold lighter still.
In the forest that isn’t a forest
any longer, the raven on the woman’s shoulder
offers the following insight about love:
Like everything else,
Megan Arkenberg lives in northern California, where she is pursuing a Ph.D. in English Literature. Her poetry has been published in dozens of places, including Strange Horizons, Goblin Fruit, Asimov’s, and Polu Texni, and her short fiction has most recently appeared in Nightmare and The Dark. She procrastinates by editing the fantasy e-zine Mirror Dance. Find her online at http://www.meganarkenberg.com.