“Little Red Riding Hood Grows Up” by Kim Bridgford


Sometimes she feels the wolves behind her eyes,
The stealthy ease

Of their shadows and their breath. Everything’s dark,
Even the work

Of love. When you’ve been eaten and released,
That is the cost.


Like a statue in the thick of what’s grown wild,
She feels the old

Cry of fear along her bones. Who can
Forget what’s in

The heart? The past is always merciless,
The same red dress,

The same door swinging open. A wolf’s disguise
Reveals the ease

With which a single innocence can die.

Is the moment before what is devoured,
Or what is shared.

Sometimes the birds can settle on her hair.
She doesn’t scare.


About Laura

When my nest emptied I moved from the big city to a little big town to tend to a ramshackle yellow house on the edge of town. These are my Yellow House Days.
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