Jessica Fordham Kidd

I’m pleased with this geomancing king—
the way sand grains appear to slip through
his fingers and the way his eyes are both
proud and cowardly.

His robes flow beautifully
even if his steps are slightly stilted
in one scene.
He moves for me, yes,
but he doesn’t move me

like the wolf, the witch,
or the soldier who simmers
in her manly disguise.

It took me a few nights to realize
they had quickened.
I wasn’t just misplacing them
around the studio.

Then, once I knew, they spoke.
Their tiny, tinny voices are like a record player
without a speaker.

They tell me how we’re all escaping
after this film. How we’re going together
to some fantastic realm
where puppet, painting, and person
are all as real as real.

Even the king will step smoothly there,
they assure me.
They know he’ll have kind eyes
once filming is wrapped.

 

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JESSICA FORDHAM KIDD is a lifelong Alabamian and teaches at the University of Alabama. Her poetry has appeared in The Paris Review, Ninth Letter Online, Tinderbox, and other journals; her fiction credits include Phantom Drift, Puerto del Sol, and others. She is the author of the poetry book Bad Jamie published by Anhinga Press.