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Glass-foot by Gabrielle Munslow  


She kneels on glass.
Two jagged rocks, hidden—clenched behind her back.
Secrets.
Her mouth open,
not in benediction
but for unholy things.

He looks down—unkind.
She rises,
smashes the rock into his skull.
Hallelujah escapes her breath.

She was shackled to desire.
But her mind wandered.
Wrote verses behind her eyes.
Words curled in corners,
caught fire.

She fought back with poetry.
With flame.
2 / 4
Cracks in the walls led
to dimensions
where love didn’t mean pain.

Now she runs, barefoot,
through an emerald garden.
Blood blooms beneath her—
but the footprints are already there.

Red steps, pressed in time.

A grandmother, maybe.
A girl from centuries back.
A sister she’s never met.

All of them running.
All of them rising.

She follows.

She hunts strong women—
backs of iron, hearts of silk.

Midwives.
Witches.
Mothers who buried sons
3 / 4
and smiled anyway.
Daughters who refused to kneel.

Her beauty fades
as her memory sharpens.
Innocents,
and innocence lost—
handed down like heirlooms.

Still, the ground moves.
Her heart grows with every mile.
A smile flickers—
almost reaches her eyes.

No longer servant
to his ineptitude.

His song: a siren’s.
Her reply:
a battle cry.

She tears through this false world—
plastic wrapped tight
around her face—
and breaks through.

4 / 4
Breath.
Real.
Her own.

Not just air.
Light.

Love returns,
not a lesson,
not a burn.

But warmth.
Legacy.
A beginning.

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