Oh, Blanche
by Sara Hoerl
I walked through white woods
where boulders lay cloaked by the blizzard,
posing as pillows, frigid air strangles my throat,
and I noticed bloody footprints in the snow
tracing back to your tune of tragedies.
Spells you cast swift through the trees;
escorting you on the road to belonging,
elusive thoughts of a home cross your mind.
You would poison the sunlit sky to relish in darkness,
gleaming beneath a paper moon that’s kept its promise.
Oh, but how this illusion collapsed,
stumbling down the mountain as an avalanche.
Piecing your youth back—the mosaic mask
conceals years of age, and cosmic cement holds its place.
Only in the light can I see the cracks in your portrait.
Now, they’ve run you out of town.
When you’re desired by none, where do you go?
where boulders lay cloaked by the blizzard,
posing as pillows, frigid air strangles my throat,
and I noticed bloody footprints in the snow
tracing back to your tune of tragedies.
Spells you cast swift through the trees;
escorting you on the road to belonging,
elusive thoughts of a home cross your mind.
You would poison the sunlit sky to relish in darkness,
gleaming beneath a paper moon that’s kept its promise.
Oh, but how this illusion collapsed,
stumbling down the mountain as an avalanche.
Piecing your youth back—the mosaic mask
conceals years of age, and cosmic cement holds its place.
Only in the light can I see the cracks in your portrait.
Now, they’ve run you out of town.
When you’re desired by none, where do you go?
Sara Hoerl is a writer based in Key West, Florida. Her work explores the beauty of the South, where love, loss, and humility intertwine with the natural world. In May 2025, her poem, "The Stamp," won 1st Place in the College of the Florida Keys’ 6th Annual Elizabeth Bishop Poetry Prize. She is working on a forthcoming collection of poems.