John Biscello

The green woman from my dream

handed me an ax, told me to break

down the door. I held the ax limply,

hesitating. Break down the door,

she insisted, an overbite to her tone,

this time adding the word goddamn.

Break down the goddamned door.

I lifted the ax, froze.

Her voice softened, a testimonial caressing

of my cold skin, as she assured–

There are no demons in there,

I swear.

What you’re going to find

is what you really fear most.

I knew what she meant, what

wasn’t waiting for me on the other side,

what I feared.

I dropped the ax and walked away,

the green woman’s disappointment trailing behind.

Some fables, you see,

remain unfinished,

especially the ones in which

failure is an option.