I must have deserved it
This curse
This ceaseless rowing
of the doomed
from the edges of life to the gates of death
Just like them
my actions must have led me to this trap
one intention
with every step
Yet I remember nothing
These forgetful waters fog my mind

It won’t be much longer, sire
The bank is ahead
Do you see?

I did not earn it
This luck
But, said my last passenger, neither did she
She shared her blessings willingly, this child of fortune

I told her my tale, such as it was
And she told me hers
How a vengeful king tossed her in a river, signed her death warrant
sent her on quest after quest
all to deserve the hand of his son
who is so far above her

Determined to break her, he was
If not, well, at least she’d bring him a dowry to atone for her sins
for being born poor
for escaping his punishments
every last one

She did not begrudge him
This king
His hatred did not weigh on her
She would not carry his cruelty
It was his alone
And luck was on her side, after all

It was me she pitied
Couldn’t she help me?
She said she’d find a way to free me
She leapt to the bank, only one task to go —
Three golden hairs from the master of this place
Imagine that
Impossible, but she would do it all the same
Happy and hapless, she lit the dark water
until she disappeared through the gates
taking her light with her

Hold my oar for me, won’t you?
I am so very tired

I will not squander it
This chance 
She brought me my answer
returning from the land of the dead
like no one does
Except for you, my lord
You with your precious prize

My oar is heavy in your hand, I know
But we are nearly there

This lucky girl told me how to cast my curse
onto someone more deserving
to make my way back to the living
where perhaps I can remember at last
mourn my loss and make amends 
She said my punishment is finished now

I do not make it lightly
This choice
So unlike those steps that brought me here
They were light as air in the making
heavy as iron in the bearing
This act is heavy as water
Heavy as pitch 

I know what I took
when I gave you my oar 
and my place in this little boat
Do you begin to see?
I am complicit in your fate
as you were in hers
Yet you are no innocent babe for the drowning
You have earned this

While I am lighter with every breath

But do not despair
Surely you are more fortunate than the luck child herself
You return from the lord of the dead
Not with three hairs of gold
But three chests of it
They were what you truly wanted 
What you truly deserve
And now you’ll never be parted 

What luck

[Lissa Sloan is the author of Glass and Feathers, a transformational continuation of the traditional Cinderella tale. Her fairy tale poems and short stories have appeared in The Fairy Tale Magazine, Niteblade Magazine, Corvid Queen, Three Ravens Podcast, and anthologies from World Weaver Press. Visit Lissa online at lissasloan.com, or connect on Facebook, Instagram, @lissa_sloan, X, @LissaSloan or Bluesky @lissasloan@bsky.social.]