Author Archives: Theodora Goss

The Pink Bugleweed by Theodora Goss Such an intricate construction, like the tower of Babylon, reaching to the sky, only about three inches high, rising from a glabrous rosette of leaves, its flowers pink and elegant, a ballet dancer of … Continue reading →

Planting Violets in the Rain by Theodora Goss The difference between me and a crazy old woman planting violets in the rain is — I’m not that old yet. But there I was, planting violets, while rain ran down my … Continue reading →

Persephone in Hades by Theodora Goss Poppies have never been my favorite flowers. Here they bloom all year long, if one can say a year in Hades, where no seasons pass, where summer never fades. Ironic, that — a land … Continue reading →

The Cinder Girl Burns Brightly by Theodora Goss Each night, her mother speaks to her out of the fire: come to me, my daughter. Come into the flames. And the Cinder Girl, the one they call Dirty Ella, even the … Continue reading →

Rabbits or Tulips by Theodora Goss I told the tulips that it’s not spring yet, but they’re not listening to me. Instead, they’re poking green leaves out of the ground, like the ears of rabbits, and I wonder, idly, if … Continue reading →

Feeding the Small Gods by Theodora Goss Leave bread soaked in milk for the piskies, those pesky little men in red hats, little women in green skirts, who pinch the cat and sign a treaty with the mouse king, who … Continue reading →

She Speaks Her Mind by Theodora Goss I am too old to fall in love for the first time, to scrape my knee on the slide or break my ankle roller skating, although I once did these things, too old … Continue reading →