Zoë Huettl

He can’t be gaining on me,
I was all-state last year—
My hair sweat-slicked,
A salt ring along the underside of my sports bra.

Barefoot,
I barely feel the sidewalk’s sting.
My hand clutching
My stilettos
By their straps. 

I’m out of time.
Solid wall of man, a few streetlights
Behind. I’m not big but I’m pissed—
The adrenaline still hits. 

I don’t have time to look, I veer
Down a side-street, flip one shoe
To hold it by the sole. 

Flatten against a door frame, pull the night air
Into my lungs. 

When I hear the slamming of heavy footfalls
I strike out, jump up,
And force the narrow heel through the socket
Of his eye. Sure he screams,
Though I listen for the crack of bone. 


Zoë Huettl studies English Literature, Poetry, and Secondary Education. She hopes to teach English to high school students, with an emphasis on personal and creative writing. She can often be found in alleys and parks with her dog, Harper.