Dismembered
Sleep (Study 1)
Nightmares
turn life
upside down
creating hyparxis
twofold, and inversely
you
stand there
an inflated representation
of the man I love
nonchalantly telling me
your brain is near bleeding;
your life, measured.
What disturbs me most
is how I go about my routine,
OCD fingers in their motions
rotating stacks of papers
and books; double checking
keys jingling in my pocket
while your existence
hangs in the balance.
Dismembered
Sleep (Study 2)
it’s
a bad movie line
gone viral
--dude where’s my car?—
frantic pacing
waiting for it to appear
in the sea of concrete
you tell me I parked
by the river
your brain is dying--
flesh sagging and
progeric
i’m running through fields
to get to the water
legs made of lead
cumbersome
unending
how will you forgive me?
how will I forgive myself?
Dismembered
Sleep (Study 3)
At
the river’s edge
I see it—the grey goose
only more compact
and incredibly wedged
between concrete walls.
Black
boys fish on the shore
poles dipping the surface
pretending to whip flies
like those redneck boys.
The
water churns violently,
not with trout or perch,
but with vaulting spines
of ferrets—teeth bared
and angry.
I
roll up my pants
to cross the water.
It is my only chance
to save you.
Aleathia Drehmer was once the editor of Durable Goods and In Between Altered States, but now spends most of her time writing novels. She has recently published poems in Rusty Truck, Spillwords, Piker Press, Anti-Heroin Chic, and Cajun Mutt Press. Aleathia has upcoming work in 58 Poetry. Her first full-length collection Looking for Wild Things (Impspired) is due out later this year. www.aleathiadrehmer.com
