“She featured herself in this light, / resplendent in the crushed glow of velvet.”
by Joel Fry
Published onJun 05, 2019
White With a Little Shade
“National Shrine of Blessed Francis Xavier Seelos, New Orleans,” Photograph, William O. Pate II.
She was a white girl, to be precise, with black hair, who never said anything, but walked ahead of me in the fog — this girl like me — who was taken from my reflection — a face so bright it shone like the moon.
There was a warm place then, with no words. We lived there together.
Duh — duh— duh — DAY Duh — duh— duh — DAY — DAY — DAY Duh — duh— duh — DAY Duh — duh— duh — DAY — DAY — DAY
That was my soul too — a spicy Creole jazz that can be eaten with a spoon — a light not seen since August that permeated the locks of my curly hair.
She featured herself in this light, resplendent in the crushed glow of velvet. She knew how to transform the streets we walked down to a letter sounding in the night.
I enjoyed her world and mine together, her voice as dark as molasses I dipped my tongue into.
Joel Fry lives in Athens, Alabama. His poetry can be read online at Eclectica, Gravel, Ghost Town, The Avatar Review and on his blog, Susurrus Waking.
Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License (CC-BY 4.0)
