Metamorphosis Bethany Reid When they first exchanged vows it was small. Marriage was like an aggie, a marble a boy might carry in his pocket for a charm. But when she took it out again, it had changed, the same heft, with a sinister aspect, bloodless and soft as a rabbit’s foot-- then it was a pirate’s green parrot, kneading her shoulder, nipping at his ear. When they made love the marriage flew dizzily about the room, shrieking. The children have learned to tease it. They adore how its hide clatters, its breath of fire. |
|
About the Author: Bethany Reid’s poetry has appeared in numerous on-line and print venues, including EIL, Calyx, Stringtown, Pontoon, Santa Clara Review, and the anthology, All We Can Hold. Her most recent book, Sparrow, won
the 2012 Gell Poetry Prize, selected by poet Dorianne Laux. Visit her blog, A Writer's Alchemy, or find her on Twitter. She lives in Edmonds, Washington, with her husband and their three daughters.
the 2012 Gell Poetry Prize, selected by poet Dorianne Laux. Visit her blog, A Writer's Alchemy, or find her on Twitter. She lives in Edmonds, Washington, with her husband and their three daughters.
