A Red Hood

by Jenny Morelli

Dear Little Red,

I understand now

why you wore a hood

tugged low around your head.

Image credit: Fumiaki Hayashi on Unsplash

It was to buffer

your fears.

I understand now

why it was red. It flared

with your heartbreak, your despair.

The edges

were equally frayed

from the edge of your rage. 

This was your life, your grim tale

to tell, a tale

that began on a snowy night

when a fur-cloaked shadow howled

with hunger

into the wind, desperate

to survive. When you approached,

bearing meat from your basket, the wolf

chewed and swallowed,

lay her head

in your lap with warmth

and gratitude and a love you never knew. 

Then a crack

split the snow-muffled

silence and your lap grew warm

with her blood-red-hooded

eyes as the Huntsman

ran to save you,

to pull you free from the monster,

but you didn’t need saving, so you shoved him

away as tears

drenched your fevered,

red-raged cheeks. You ran

and you ran

along the beast’s

beaten path to where

her cowering litter lay huddled in

and you covered them all with your red-

hooded cape. You lowered your frayed hood

against the winds, against

the savages

and lived your life

with a newfound purpose,

with a confound hope, with a profound

love.

***

Jenny Morelli

Jenny Morelli is a high school English teacher who lives in New Jersey with her husband and cat. She is often either inspired by her students or else they're triggering memories in her of when she was young and struggling with her self-confidence. She has been published in a number of literary magazines, including Spare Parts for a novel excerpt, Spillwords for several themed poems, and Bottlecap Press for her own chapbook This is Not a Drill.