By Jodi Hottel
- after the painting by Roger Shimomura, 2008
Mary's in her red and white
checkered dress with the bow
at the neckline. I'm in my
blue and green one with the ruffle.
We hold the red apples she's brought,
poised to take that first tart bite,
eager smiles on our faces.
We're the same age— twelve,
even the same height— though
I might have half an inch on her,
been in the same class
every grade in school 'til
Now I'm in a class
inside barbed wire while she's
outside. Now I notice the
differences between us.
She parts her blonde hair
on the side, mine runs down
the middle, hair dark as the tarpaper
on our barrack. Her eyes are blue
and round, mine suspicious slits.
I see it now as plainly
as the barbed wire
Jodi Hottel’s most recent chapbook is Out of the Ashes from Pandemonium Press. Her
previous chapbooks are Voyeur from WordTech Press in 2017 and Heart Mountain,
winner of the 2012 Blue Light Press Poetry Prize. Jodi’s been published in Nimrod
International, Spillway, Ekphrasis, and anthologies from the University of Iowa Press,
Tebot Bach, and the Marin Poetry Center.