golden light, a smell like downy wings of pigeons at the crown
of a young mother’s head. it is the first, if not the only thing i see,
shining brighter than a cherub’s flesh, a linen sleeve,
a canopy of trees familiar only by roots, and implication.
with an intersection of indigo and navy at her waist, the young woman
dotes on the unclothed babe; hot, we expect, from the clues of a
branch in hand, a title, the slightest blush.
it is remarkable that they have found themselves, so near a stream, so
deliciously surrounded by brave, brave green and the wisdom of tree trunks.
yet more remarkable still, is that no bare foot shows a trace of the route taken.
Rhienna Renèe Guedry is a Louisiana-born weirdo who found her way to the Pacific Northwest, perhaps solely to get use of her vintage outerwear collection. A Jill of All Trades, she enjoys time well spent writing, making art, riding her bicycle, and curating the best Halloween parties this side of the Mason-Dixon. Her work has appeared in Portland Monthly, Bitch Magazine, Scalawag Magazine, Taking the Lane, and elsewhere on the internet. She is currently working on her first novel.