because they look like Superman’s Fortress
of Solitude. But he doesn’t reply, and I see
now that I’ve mixed my stories up at the start.
My ex-husband is Kay, the little boy
in Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tale
The Snow Queen. He has a splinter
of goblin glass in his heart, and to him,
the world is inverted. I am Gerda, the good
neighbor girl. Every day I look across
to his window, but he is gone, the curtains
tightly closed. Fairy tale logic tells me
that if I am kind to the animals I encounter
on the winter streets, if I befriend the little
robber maiden who threatens me, I will
receive help, and the splinter of glass
will work itself free. And this may be true,
but it is also fairy tale logic that the splinter
of glass will need somewhere else to go,
and that if I break the spell, I must take it
into my own heart. And even though I look
up often at those empty windows to see if
he is there, I know that what I have really
learned from the little robber maiden and
the animals on the winter street is to survive.
Jennifer Finstrom
Jennifer Finstrom teaches in the First-Year Writing Program, tutors in writing, and facilitates writing groups at DePaul University. She is the poetry editor of Eclectica Magazine, and recent publications include Escape Into Life, Extract(s), NEAT, and YEW Journal. She also has work appearing in The Great Gatsby Anthology, Ides: A Collection of Poetry Chapbooks, and forthcoming in the Alice in Wonderland Anthology, all from Silver Birch Press.
Artwork: Alexandra Khitrova, “Ice Land”
Website: http://gaudibuendia.deviantart.com/
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