The Wren

by Penelope Black

Contrary to the patriarchal bullshit you and your buddies eat for breakfast, you don’t need a dick to be the boss.”

The hot poker of jealousy slips between my ribs and pricks at my soft insides.

I remember that I’ve been told countless times that I give off an air of intimidation. Ava swears it’s why men don’t approach me as freely as they do my sisters. I think it’s because men are weak.

I refuse to take on his guilt, to assure him that I’m fine. I’ve been the fixer in our family for so long, it feels physically uncomfortable not to step in and smooth it over. Like a wool sweater that went through the dryer—itchy and too tight on my skin.