Author Archives: Theodora Goss

Shoes of Bark by Theodora Goss What would you think if I told you that I was beautiful? That I walked through the orchards in a white cotton dress, wearing shoes of bark. In early morning, when mist lingered over … Continue reading →

Diamonds and Toads by Theodora Goss This fairy tale is a metaphor. Because it really would be just as uncomfortable to have diamonds coming out of your mouth as toads: one hard, sharp, like a mouthful of glass. The other … Continue reading →

Death and the Maiden by Theodora Goss The night has gathered around me. I think of Death, who breathes so softly beside my ear, like a lover. Softly he whispers, “This will soon be over. You will lay those bones … Continue reading →

Sister Immaculata by Theodora Goss Once, there was a woman who did not want to get married. Instead, she wanted to write. What! said her father. What! Why would you want such a thing? said her mother, who had been … Continue reading →

The Ophelia Cantos by Theodora Goss I. Lilies tangle in her hair: green stems like water-snakes. II. A disembodied hand floats on the surface. So much has been lost already: toes, the lobe of her left ear. But this remains, … Continue reading →

Gifts by Theodora Goss Sometimes I consider the gifts I’ve been given: life, first of all, then health, which lets me stride through the world thoughtlessly — a little too much so. Talent, I think, but that’s for you to … Continue reading →

Foxes by Theodora Goss Deep in the ferns they are creeping, their sweeping tails setting swaying the ferns as they crawl, little red foxes, an army of redcoats, elegant-eared and cunningly small, like rubies half-hid by a billowing shawl. Deep … Continue reading →