Things I Didn’t Tell You
Of course, the cape and hood I gave you needn’t have been so beacon-bright. Perhaps, I should have thought about the danger that this could invite. I wasn’t sent to school or given any books, the hearth had seldom any glow, the pantry barely any food. No harm was done, I did just fine and so will you, my Little Red. You’ll have to collect your wits all by yourself into your scarlet picnic basket. Learn the signs, one stroke at a time, be able to recognise good intentions from those that are unkind. If you are lucky, you will be saved but it won’t be you who gets to dictate the ending of your story. That is, of course, one more thing I didn’t think to tell you about.
Bio: Doryn Herbst, formerly a scientist in the water industry, Wales, now lives in Germany and is a deputy local councillor. Her writing considers the natural world but also themes which address social issues. She is putting together a pamphlet-sized series about violence in its many facets. Doryn has poetry in Fahmidan Journal, CERASUS Magazine, Sledgehammer Literary Journal and more, plus work forthcoming in Fenland Poetry Journal, Re-side Zine and The Dawntreader. She is a reviewer at Consilience science poetry journal.