my daughter forgot the doll I gave her
so she couldn’t sort the poppy seeds
or carry back a flaming skull
to light the house of her heart.
Instead the old witch snorted and chortled
and made her a slave where wind blew hard
white and red and black all over
until she forgot her own true name
and mine, too, mine most of all
while I sat weeping over tiny braids,
a small mouth bright as blood.