who secretly thrilled to Ursula
who shared her envy
of that underwater voice
and wanted nothing more
than to throat it. To swallow.
To use it however we liked. We,
the ones who tried to belt
some mournful song but heard just
screechy child warbles, nothing
sultry. Who compensated with
soulful looks in the mirror
before we knew what soulful looks
even were. Who scorned the princess-
crazed girls, their saturated pinks.
Who knew our fear of the villain
wasn’t fear, but longing.
Michele Lent Hirsch is a journalist, editor, and poet. Her poetry has appeared in Rattle, Bellevue Literary Review, Canary, and Spillway, and her non-fiction in The Atlantic, Psychology Today, Women Under Siege, and Smithsonian Magazine, where she is a regular online contributor. She lives and works in New York.