No one can color-match my complexion. No setting spray can contain the garden of my soul. Daisies and forget-me-nots and pansies peek through my pores. The magazines said concealer would complete the task and hide my weeds. I tried, but Apollo 11 burned past and melted my mask of beeswax. Galaxies broke out and smelled like gurgling stars. I tried powder and bronzer and blush and highlighter to to contour the landscape of my face. No shade or hue disguised the noise of my spirit’s song-scream.
Courtney Moody is a dancer, writer, and poet of faith. Her poetry publications include Saw Palm, Kelp Journal’s The Wave, and Capsule Stories’ “Starry Nights." Her prose has been featured online at Bridge Eight and in Propertius Press' "Draw Down the Moon." In 2022, her poem "Florida Anatomy" was awarded 2nd place for the Florida State Poet's Association Award. She is currently editing her first full-length novel while continuing to create poems and choreographic work before she melts at the hands of the sunshine state. You can follow her on Twitter: @courtofwriting.
POET INSPO CHOICE:
EDITOR'S SONG PAIRING:
Homecoming - Makeup and Vanity Set