The Tale's End
by Lynn Hardaker
I find myself alone on this white plain as fragile as bindings of paper and ink my father was tricked by the red-mouthed wolves who used his axe against him my sister's body lies in the frozen casket of the river her lips forever kissed apple-red my brothers drifted skyward only to lose their dream-black feathers which fell to earth as a shower of words and my mother, who started it all sits in her pelt-roofed hut picking her teeth with the bone of my little finger.
Toronto born and mostly raised, Lynn Hardaker currently lives in Munich, Germany with her husband, two sons, and three cats. Ok, so she's lying about the cats. She paints and makes collages and writes, all of which make her appear busy while she looses herself in daydreams. This is her first publication. She keeps a blog where she muses about this and that.
After much humming and hawing...she's settled on the simple, crisp and tart McIntosh apple as her favourite fruit.
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