Crystal Vision in Spring
Jade Hurter
| poetry
The city turns perfume shop. I can’t think at all with the jasmine so thick. Angels circle me like sharks, waiting for sweat or tears, anything wet and bodily. The stasis overwhelms, the sparrows are fucking on my porch. My friends and I joke about being in heat. It’s true, though, that springtime is a drug. The angels grow faint as the mosquitos’ whining, and then suddenly I wake up beside one. I remember, but do not experience, silence. Over and over, the forecast says rain.
Jade Hurter is the author of the chapbook Slut Songs (Hyacinth Girl Press, 2017), and her recent work has appeared in THRUSH, Passages North, Hunger Mountain, Puerto Del Sol, Iron Horse Literary Review, and elsewhere. She teaches English at the University of New Orleans.