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
16