a bell and staff in hand

what is the anatomy of a fool? 

is it a woman unloved by her father? is it a girl strained by her mother? 

is it the men of court? 

the sons of gods? 

the outcasts? 

the societal men? 

the wise? 

the unwise? 

who plays fool the best? 

i feel like an ugly star— 

some dim-riddled girl 

who cannot breathe the right dust. 

a spear has been jammed through, 

and my blood tastes like plum and cardamom; it would go nice with a duck or lamb, cooked

and plated. 

im a fool in my own doldrum. 

im a fool where it counts. 

im a fool in the dull corner of my heart, and in the dull walls of yours. 

im a damn fool letting the pulp 

of my heart grow cold. 

i look like her in some pictures. 

our lips are parted the same, 

our faces are pale—lips chapped. 

im not ugly around her, 

i dont feel it; 

i dont reach for vanity 

when she sings me her lullaby 

about crushed stars and cowboys. 

i love playing the fool—it feeds me.

Written by by Autumn Riley

Autumn Riley is currently stuck on teeth metaphors and the need to go analog. Christina Rossetti's "Goblin Market" and Phoebe Waller-Bridge's Fleabag are her favorite gifts from the Brits. She considers Avalon High and Brave to be eternally stitched to her Letterboxd four. She loves to wear red and navy and pretend she is lost in the countryside somewhere east.