THE BRIDE-CHOOSING

I chose her for the way she

ate a block of cheese, the way she

baked gold rings into bread, the way she

felt a pea under a hundred mattresses.

I chose her for the way she

sang horses to sleep, the way she

spun straw into gold, the way she

searched every river to find the right bones.

I needed no directions.

Dragons, forests, witches:

a slash of my sword solved all.

But how did she know to be

fragile

and meek

and frivolous;

and to cut the rind off her cheese just right?

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TINY MEAT

Once upon a time, not so long ago, there was a girl. More than anything else in the world, the girl dreamed of kittens.

Every boyfriend tried to give her what she wanted, but all she wanted was kittens. The first few – the soft-skinned lawyer, the tall baker, the moody economics student – all thought she wanted a baby. But what would she want with a baby? How silly to want a screaming, scrunch-faced bundle of skin. Kittens were softer than a breath, and the most noise they made was a petulant mew. She didn’t understand why anyone would want a baby.

The next few – the tattooed singer, the dark-eyed salesman – understood her dreams. They brought her gift-wrapped boxes that squirmed and rustled in their arms. But what would she want with someone else’s kittens? Torn away from their wailing mothers and given to her to look after. She did not want to adopt.

Finally, after many years and many men, the girl became a woman. And with that, her dreams began to fade. So many years, so much trying, and nothing. The woman closed her mind to soft fur, pink noses, tiny pointed teeth. She closed her ears to soft purrs and the bell of a meow. She moved to a house with no garden.

But it couldn’t last. For a year she’d tried to forget, but the dreams came creeping back – and with the dreams, she knew what to do. A man could try forever and still fail to give her kittens. A man was not what she needed.

Soon, she fell in love. He was quiet, intense; but she knew that he loved her too. She knew this when the kittens came. They came soon; perhaps too soon. The kittens took up all her time, all her energy, all her love, until she had little left to give. Their neglected father grew jealous. When she entered a room he would stalk out, his head held high. One night he left her, taking her kittens with him. The last she knew of them was their plaintive cries breaking through her sleep. The next morning, padding around the empty house, she discovered her loss. She could have wept, screamed, torn up her dreams. She could have given up, found her heart a new desire. Instead she kept her heart safe, tucked up inside herself. She hoped and wished and dreamed every single night of just one thing.

One year of dreaming, two hours of labour, three kittens. She lay for hours, curled on her side like a comma with her kittens cradled by her belly. Too young for fur, their flesh was pink-red like just-bloomed roses, sugar-covered sweets, her own heart. They smelled like fresh blood and the warm air of summer. She lay with them, feeling four hearts beat in rhythm.

###

THE GIANTESS

i.

The giantess grows fat on kisses.

She consumes little elfboys

one by one, like bonbons

pop-popping between her teeth.

She wants you, pretty girlboy.

And she will not wait.

ii.

You will come round in your brother’s leather jacket

collar turned up

sleeves covering knuckles.

You will smell of

nicotine and fizzy drinks.

I will be concealed

in silk the colour of tongues.

I will suck the fat

from your lips.

###

Kirsty Logan is a writer, editor, teacher, waitress, and general layabout. She likes coffee cupcakes and sticking pins in maps. She lives in Glasgow with her girlfriend. www.kirstylogan.com