Rumpelstiltskin, If

I only look at it when he is sleeping: 

the straw-spun thread,

golden,

trailing from my index finger

to the back of his delicate hand.

When I shift, I feel the tug,

bone deep,

and imagine his tender pulse

in the quiver

of that single

bartered strand.

I tell myself I am not a monster. 

Real monsters behead girls for riches

and want of a spinning wheel.

They slug infants against lonely tower walls.

They don’t miracle straw to gold,

not for necklaces,

or rings,

or firstborn sons.

I cradle him,

and stroke his belly,

the softness of his arms,

his tiny body so perfectly fragile

and unlike my own.

I whisper songs of foolish young mothers

and gentle imps.

I coil our thread like a coin in my palm

so that, when I kiss him awake,

he will not see

the secret between us.

So that he will never

ever                    

think to guess

my name.

Lora Gray is a non-binary speculative fiction writer and poet from Northeast Ohio. They have been published in F&SF, Uncanny, and Asimov’s among other places. Lora is also a graduate of Clarion West and a recipient of the Ohio Arts Council’s Individual Excellence Award in Fiction Writing. Their poetry has been nominated for the Rhysling Award. You can find Lora online at lora-gray.com.