Dear Belle

From you I know | all blue dresses are wishes for yellow
gowns that twirl in captive arcs | a mezzo-soprano’s
gasp can sweep the cobwebs off novel spines, caress
dusty picture frames, soften the hearth | only portraits
and books should be touched, never roses | only the mirror
configures my concept of other | never mention Mother |
I must protect my gullible father | putti exist in patterns,
frescoes, interludes | snowballs are a conduit of duets |
I can fight wolves with a tree at my back | tend his wounds
after he saves me from the pack | if I gallop fast enough
through the gate up the stairs (call it love—like mirrors,
we are allowed to lie) I can save him, too | I can kiss him
first, turn flakes to sparks on his thighs, gasp, watch
him fly | I can make love to a beast if he’s dying.


Jessica Hudson (Twitter: @JessicaRWHudson) is a graduate teaching assistant working on her Creative Writing MFA at Northern Michigan University. She is currently an associate editor for Passages North. Her work has been published or is forthcoming in The Pinch, Fractured Lit, and Dovecote, among others. Sweet: homemade bread pudding.

 … return to Issue 13.1 Table of Contents.

LEAVE A REPLY

Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here