My sister and I were judged
by some rogue fairy godmother,
whose morality is as complex
as a Disney cartoon.
I was cursed for cussing
the lewd compliments
of construction crews,
for telling a coworker
(when he suggested
I make him a cup of coffee)
where to shove the pot.
My words transform
into a tickle of tadpoles
in my throat. Sentences hop
from my lips—splattering
mashed potatoes, cracking
mother’s plates—syllables:
fully formed amphibians.
Sister is blessed for not
complaining when her boyfriend
demands dinner while she’s sick,
for not raising her voice
when the boss pats her ass.
Her words, each article, verb,
and pronoun turn into diamonds,
rubies, or rare gold coins,
equally destructive
to the china. But no one hears
her over the clatter of the prized
opals and Krugerrands.
Tired of chipped teeth,
the bruised lips, of no one
actually listening,
she’s learning sign language.
But not even the bullfrogs
can silence me. My words
are beautiful—speckled
with yellow or iridescent blue.
Jennifer Lynn Krohn
Jennifer Lynn Krohn was born and raised in Albuquerque, New Mexico, where she currently lives with her husband. She earned her MFA from the University of New Mexico, and she currently teaches English at Central New Mexico Community College. Jennifer is the poetry editor for Fickle Muses and a member of the Dirt City Writers. She has published work in Río Grande Review, Prick of the Spindle, In the Garden of the Crow, Versus Literary Journal, and Gingerbread Literary Magazine among others.
Artwork: Dimitra Milan, “Chance Encounter”
Website: https://www.dimitramilan.com/
Gingerbread House Lit Mag 