2nd Place Winner of the Spring Poetry Contest: Hedgehog’s Dilemma - Cory Quinn

the small creature sits there in the cold,     surrounding snowfall 

dense enough to suffocate strange silhouettes. this is a thing

called safety; self-imposed isolation     so far out of harm’s reach

it wraps ‘round the other side-                  stretching, warping, 

until it’s far less secure than what was first promised.

so the poor thing finds its way through the flurries to a group,

met with momentary heat, a fleeting sense of connection

only for connection to become penetration-     oozing red from 

neighboring spikes leaving the ground stained in cherry pain,

and once again they are driven away to the frigid landscape.

(yes it’s all true. as the story goes,

two hedgehogs find each other amid the storm.

they huddle for warmth but are cut by each other’s

spines. in the pursuit of their safety, they avoid 

the intimacy of comfort, calling out into the winds-

I don't want to hurt you.)

they say it may be impossible to be close without mutual harm,

doomed to live in fear of hurt- causing and bearing it in return

but I am here to love and be loved, even if it hurts.

together, we are learning how to share warmth

how to feel for balance                    without puncturing flesh.

I will hold your face in my hands- trace from eyebrow to jawline

and feel your palms resting on my soft back.

we will fall asleep in the same bed and learn the word peace.

our spines can learn to lay flat, a mutual comfort to rewrite that

notion the philosophers first feared.

---

Cory Quinn (pronouns he/him/his) is a writer from Carver, Minnesota, currently based in Eau Claire, Wisconsin. His poetry centers around themes of bodies, relationships, and love, and uses different poetic forms to tell stories of queerness and transness.