The Monster of Ravenna by Claire Rupnow
Something about the gentle tuck of my scales lapping against themselves , a shimmer of mesozoic longing across my body , makes me think
I might be beautiful . Once , I let a single , polished claw rake itself across the perfect , swelling skin of my sleeping sister . It split like a grin , a tongue
of blood lolling across her breast , slurping the flower of her nipple . To me , the moon and sun are the same . Am I more soul or beast ?
My mother shudders at the roaring secreted by my animal body — the snaps and snarls and guttural echoes of hymns . My sister recoils
from my sharp , delicate animal mind - the pinching stare of my third eye . With each breath of disgust that roils their faces , I start to think I might be beautiful .
Spirit by Aria Durward
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