Silence of The Lambs: A Starling Is Born

By REILLY D. COX

CLARICE
All his victims are women…
His obsession is women, he lives to hunt women.
But not one woman is hunting him—except me.
I can walk into a woman’s room
and know three times as much about her as a man would.

 

A starling catches me in a dress
and pierces my chest two times,
deeply, and I cannot blame her.

She’s right:
I was such an ugly bird.

She says that any bird raised as a boy
is conditioned as a boy and cannot ever
change that, and I don’t correct her.

If boyhood is a circle of boys above me
stomping purple flowers into me,
then I’ve known such a wondrous boyhood.

And if I say, I did not ask to be born a bird,
she wouldn’t hear me anyway.

There’s already a flock of them,
reducing my nest to sticks again.

And they will call me by a name,
but it won’t be mine.

 

Reilly D. Cox is an MFA candidate at the University of Alabama in Tuscaloosa, where they served as design editor for Black Warrior Review. They attended Washington College and the Bucknell Seminar for Younger Poets. They have work available or forthcoming in Nat. Brut, Always Crashing, Juked, Cosmonauts Avenue, Rust + Moth, and elsewhere.

[Purchase Issue 19 here.] 

Silence of The Lambs: A Starling Is Born

Related Posts

Portuguese Restaurant

Islanders

SCOTT LAUGHLIN
I welcome this attitude because it shows they don’t care about me or my tourist dollars. The massive influx of foreign dollars that floated the Portuguese economy but threatened local ways of life in Lisbon… I am grateful to be here, tucked away. I take the menu and try to read… an unreadable Portuguese scrawl listing the dishes.

Cover of The Scent of Buenos Aires

Review: The Scent of Buenos Aires: Stories by Hebe Uhart

JASMINE V. BAILEY
In Argentina, the short story is not what you write until you manage to write a novel; it is a lofty form made central by twentieth-century titans like Julio Cortázar, Jorge Luis Borges and Silvina Ocampo.

Pine tree at sunset

July on South St. (AEAE)

NICK MAIONE
I open the doors and windows and shut off the lights./ For a while I play tunes on the fiddle / shirtless in my dark house. I love doing this. / For the first time all day I am not at home. / For the first time since the last time / my body is the same size as my flesh.