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issue 6: FAIRYTALE

a deal is made
by clasping hands

JACK APOLLO HARTLEY
In my childhood garden
(a rectangle of yard, threadbare with patchy grass)
the flowers are all mid-bloom, raveling petals
(a half-dead rose bush, heads curled in like they’re already pressed)
and fairies dwell under a woodland throne.
(a tipped-over swinging bench, mice scuffling beneath)

This is where,
the fairies told me, small hands reaching,
you leave broken things.
Set them there, say a prayer,
return in seven nights.


In my childhood garden
(beside our trailer; we get more, being a corner lot)
the leaves weave a canopy above
(the lone tree drops a branch on our roof during a storm)
and music always plays, beats felt through the ground.
(I dance alone.)

On the last night I creep back, find my teddy bear
sitting where I left him, ruling.
My fingers lift him, check for
the tear on his belly—it’s sewn, fixed, and
the price comes in parentheses.

Aspiring kitchen witch Jack Apollo Hartley holds a deep love (and a healthy respect) for all things fae. Find him on Twitter @jackpollyharts. His work can be found in Whiskey Island Magazine, Wine Cellar Press, Stone of Madness Press, and perhappened magazine's earlier issue ROAD TRIP.
perhappened mag
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header photo: marina shatskih (unsplash)

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