Wrinkles

I moved the doorway he confessed. I can do little miracles easily. I can do big ones too. If I'm angry enough.

Take off your eyes and look at me. Skin like chewing gum. Hard and flavorless. Tell the woodsman to bring his dullest axe. The wolf in grandma's spectacles is fooling no one.

I move closer. Little lights in the folds of the discarded wrapper. Pink granules of sugar still alive with a cadence lost to math. Stepping on the sounds. In weighted boots. Running. Eyes shut tight. To lock the windows.

Before the world notices we're not there.

Egg yolks on her fingers. All the dresses she'll never wear. A single place.

An empty cellophane. Still stuck in the shape of how sweet it once was.