The Truth in Forgotten Secrets

Mureall Hebert


She swears she’ll teach me black magic or read my fortune one tea leaf at a time. Restless as stalks of wheat that bend and weave, summertime hair the color of burnt almonds, fingertips painted iron silver. I have no money for you. But she doesn’t trade in horse-flesh or torn Levi’s to be sold on the black market. One touch. Let me run my hand across your soul. The shivers from her fingertips find footholds, staircases around skeletal muscles. The salt buoys you. I am the salt. Elemental. Mercurial. I sink, gasp for breath. Teach me black magic. Her bottomless eyes croon with what I imagine she holds. You are the rabbit. You will run far and fleet of foot. My future, her hands. A cup of oolong and honey.


Mureall Hebert holds an MFA from the Northwest Institute of Literary Arts. Her work can be found in Hobart, [PANK], Rat’s Ass Review, Crack the Spine, and elsewhere. She’s earned a Best New Poets and a Pushcart Prize nomination, and an Honorable Mention in Glimmer Train’s Very Short Fiction Contest. She lives near Seattle, WA with her family. You can find Mureall online @mureallhebert and