The oven yawned - a red mouth,
hungry as a lost child.

She called me little dove, her voice
crackling like kindling,
"Mein kleines Mädchen …"-
then my fist split her jaw,
She staggered,
eyes rolling white as eggshells
That's when I seized her—
and marched her toward the heat.
Her heels scraped the floor.
her nails clawed red lines into my arms,
Wait— she gasped,
Behind me, Hansel moaned,
his fingers strangling the bars.
The witch shook her head,
lips forming no -
but into hell's mouth
I thrust her.

Shhhhhh, sighed the latch
as I slid it home.
The screams dwindled
into the hiss of fat,
the rich, smoky perfume
of roasting meat.
Outside, sunlight dripped gold
through the trees,
as sparks of birdsong
tumbled from the branches.

Hansel retched, as I smiled 
and inhaled the feast. Licking my 
split knuckles, tasting the dark red 
of my own hunger.