Maggie Rue Hess

Queen of Globes and Mirrors

Summer months I walked the single stretch
of road threading campus to the town
and to the neighboring Amish farms,
feet and face pointed toward the frat house
delimiting my bounded interests. I walked
that asphalt and the grass between its cracks
to see a boy who kept me all but in mind
from the end of spring semester to August. I kept
it a secret, those trips to his room where
I never stayed the night. And at the time I loved it
(I must have), even if the thrill carried
its unidentifiable edge of sadness (which I know
now) and the songs I listened to during shifts
at the campus call center had everything to do with wanting
to be wanted and I wasn’t exactly lonely because I wasn’t
really alone and (I know now) I have not outgrown
any of it. I’m still likely to turn my toes
toward the faces that would cover me in a gaze
like a glass cloche. The boy was nice enough,
but eventually I took my chance to break his heart
(his words), and when I could kiss him again, I did it
carelessly. That’s not true, I suppose: I did care,
but only as much as it took to smile
when I wished him goodnight the last time, when it was
a later winter and our needs could be numbered.
I thought it would change if I could be the one
to summon faces to mine; I thought I could treat it
like a hunger and eventually I’d be full. But
my wanting is a stretch of many roads.

________________________________________________________________________________________

Maggie Rue Hess (she/her) is a PhD student living in Knoxville, Tennessee, with her partner and their crusty white dog. Her work has appeared in Rattle, Connecticut River Review, SWWIM and other publications. Her debut chapbook, The Bones That Map Us, was published by Belle Point Press in 2024. She likes to share baked goods with friends and can be found on Instagram as @maggierue_.