1 poem

WE SHOULD HAVE EATEN BEFORE WE LEFT

                                             after Stephen Sondheim’s Into the Woods

How much longer until we leave the woods?

I can’t remember how long we’ve been walking,

and I can’t remember the last time we ate.

I’ve been trusting Mother to lead us now.

My sister and I can’t see the path anymore, and we wonder

how much longer until we leave the woods.

Mother said we’d never have to walk again, not that I can

with a missing toe that keeps hitting stones.

Suddenly, I can’t remember the last time we ate.

I do remember there are peppermints in my pocket,

but I don’t want to share any with these fools.

It’s not much longer until we leave the woods.

I don’t think I owe them anything after I lost

my dreams to a lentil-picking girl, my eyes to the crows.

Who can remember the last time we ate?

I’ll secretly pop a peppermint in my mouth and allow them

to keep leading me along the cluttered, twisted path.

We still don’t know how much longer until we leave the woods,

and we still don’t remember the last time we ate.

Alex Carrigan (he/him) is a Pushcart-nominated editor, poet, and critic from Alexandria, VA. He is the author of Now Let’s Get Brunch (Querencia Press, 2023) and May All Our Pain Be Champagne (Alien Buddha Press, 2022). He has appeared in HAD, fifth wheel press, Sage Cigarettes, JAKE, Inlandia Journal, and more. Visit carriganak.wordpress.com or follow him on Twitter @carriganak for more info.