POEM FOR LISTENING UNDERWATER
In a dream I had last night, I wandered
I could analyze it for you this way:
than the need for air. This morning,
and imagined my ex's rugged uncle
to hand me his delicate cursive,
send a postcard to my ex in a hospital
in the flatness of Indiana. When I lived
who held his own eye in the palm
to help buy a hearing aid for his brother.
If you ask me what this poem means,
Ask me what body means,
This poem originally had a cornfield in it, but was always thankfully devoid of He Who Walks Behind the Rows. Two books are important to the composition of this poem: Black Swan by Lyrae Van Clief-Stefanon, and The Trotula, which is my favorite of all medieval gynecological handbooks.