secret

princess

poetry, summer 2024

Secret Princess gets bashful around pot-bellied pigs, and freshwater streams, and carts pulled by mules. She has trouble relating to hooved animals and artifacts. Few things come easily to Secret Princess. Secret Princess struggles with crochet, and with left turns, and with martial arts, flag football, viola, gymnastics, developing calluses. Secret Princess sometimes believes that if she could successfully execute one basic embroidery stitch, angels will finally just come down and absolve her of her shame. The angels will descend on pink hooks, pink ribbons of fishing line in their hair. The angels will be like, We're sorry it took so long. We're happy to see you. We think you're pretty and cool. Secret Princess will blush like a broth. It is unclear whether Secret Princess A) Knows she is a princess, and is keeping it a secret or B) Has no idea she is a princess, and the secret is being kept from her. Either way, there's a cloudy blue fog over everything. Inside the blue fog, the angels get lost. Secret Princess tries to help. She starts pointing around. The angels kind of shrug at her, like Girl, we know you're lost too. Secret Princess sleeps with a frozen pea under her tailbone after watching a TikTok recommending the practice. It's supposed to help your skin glow or your hair un-frizz or your pelvic floor strengthen. Something like that. Secret Princess tries to do exactly what she's told. She rarely succeeds at this. We don't know why she keeps trying. Secretly, in the car, Secret Princess calls herself Baby. You can do it, Baby, she whispers before merging. Secret Princess gravitates toward healing. Also, booze. Your hair looks great today, says Secret Princess. The angels drool sweetly like schnauzers, trimming each other's blonde hair into bobs. Thanks to you, say the angels, We're finally free. Once an angel makes five good mistakes, she is free. Secret Princess checks her reflection in a bus window. She looks more and more like a broth. Keep it together! says Secret Princess, secretly to herself, when her manicurist makes fun of her nail polish color. The color is bright green, which she chose for its name: This Gecko Knows Tricks. Secret Princess loves this poem even though it is a trick. Secret Princess knows that love cannot fix everything, just most things, and so her nail beds remain insecure and submissive. Secret Princess is a Hound for love. She's always waiting for the right moment to place her snout inside your palm. Secret Princess still believes, wholeheartedly, in "happy accidents." That's why she's just standing there, waving her hand.

ERIKA WALSH

is an MFA candidate in Poetry at the University of Alabama, poetry editor of Black Warrior Review, and founding editor of A Velvet Giant. Erika's writing has been featured or is forthcoming in Ninth Letter, Booth, Astrolabe, Pigeon Pages, and elsewhere. She lives in Tuscaloosa, Alabama with her partner, her cat, and various houseplants and knick-knacks. Connect with her on Instagram @fruitquills or on her website at erikamwalsh.com