‘Black Pepper’
Madelynn Chatwin is a college student from Southern California where she is working towards earning her Bachelor’s in Liberal Arts. When she is not fiddling with her digital camera while on a spur-of-the-moment vacation, you can find her working on one of her many works-in-progress, pursuing technical theatre and scenic design, and attempting any new hobby that comes her way. You can check out some of her literary work on Substack @madelynnchatwin and scenic design work at https://madelynnchatwin.myportfolio.com/
Black Pepper
If it weren’t for the freckles that were sprinkled on your cheeks
The cat wouldn’t have caught my tongue.
The bleached-bad, fiery, frizzy orange hair
Cleared my sinuses with one glimmer in the sun.
“Sorry,” is all that slipped out
And the city released a sigh.
The sand, the sea, the birds, the trees
Swooned at your saccharine song.
It was an accident to run into you on the pier,
But the library must have been a sign.
I’d mistaken a green and a red-
A beckoning go ahead for
Warning of a potential threat.
You looked like a glass-bottle clementine soda
But the freshness of your mind was a shot of ginger ale.
You could cure me of my sniffles but the sneezes were something else.
My addiction to your bubbly personality was stronger than
The caffeine-laced criticisms you reigned me with.
I wish I’d been diagnosed allergic to you.
Mornings and nights rolled over as seconds.
Soon the orange soda fizz decayed to slick blackberry locks.
The blackberries soured into carbon black straws.
The days of black licorice strands still leave a vile stain
Where my words lump in my throat with all the words I didn’t say.
When you cut your hair short
I knew I was next.
There’s no need for me when you’re convinced you’re the best.
I was conflict to your character in your scripted scenes
Who was best left unresolved
In the black frame of silver screens.
Lighten up, Blackbird. “Sorry,” I wish you said.
A Fantasy section of my life, of that shelf,
Where we shared our introductions prefaced
With, “It won’t end well.”
Mistaken for the spice I wanted, not needed in my life-
Cheeks, nose, chin, lips, where your freckles enchanted me.
Don’t sniff the black pepper or you’ll sneeze until your nose bleeds
Jean Reyes has been writing scripts, lyrics, cringe, and analyses since her high school creative writing study in San Diego, California. She is a retired classical pianist, a chemist, animanga enjoyer, and deep-reads children's books for fun. Dialogue and argumentative essay are her fortes, but imagery in poetry and prose are her most practiced areas. Her hobbies include freestyle cooking, killing pens, and doodling mishaps with her sister. You can send a piece of your mind to @rhedrion on Instagram and X.
