Riding Hood in Blue by Oliver Newman

Riding Hood in Blue

After the forest
she came to a clearing …

muddy waters,
not a neat mammal in sight;

tracks in the distance,
so she went down to the crossroads,

tried to flag a ride
from this new-looking ’62 Chevvy.

Howlin’ Wolf
playing on the all-transistor –

It must be 1963
she thought to herself

as she scrutinised
the driver’s eyes, nose, and mouth.

And after her blason
was done, she boarded the machine:

completed the conceit –
because he was nothing like

anyone familiar,
and in these times that was fine.

But her own history
was swelling, like a chorus; unbirthed …

and at the gas station
she opted to continue on foot –

the long grass
blowing in the wind welcomed her,

and so she stood stationary
at the roadside, waiting to be found

relevant.

 

Oliver Newman is a writer from Bristol, UK. A student of Oxford University’s Creative Writing MSt., he obtained his joint-honours BA in English and French. He has worked as an English and Creative Writing teacher in Paris and his short unpunctuated story about homelessness in the city The Man in the Box is published in The Stockholm Review. Presently he is based in London where he is preparing his first collection of poetry.

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