Alice Brasser © 2019
impression III
In the dream, it seemed everyone had grown older,
but I remained the same
clump of earth, taxidermied bird.
It took me a lifetime to see the sun
shining through a rain shower. That is to say, unclouded.
That is to say look
how it glistens now kind orb,
round heavy head of the martyr, look now
how it courts the eye.
by Adam J. Gellings
Impression I (In lieu of)
Once
in the middle
of a long furrow, I stood
firm, too shallow
to hide. I felt the shape
of the plow covering
my blisters, suckling earth.
Which dream is this?
I asked
the fine lines that kept me
like palm groves
under snow. A buried coin,
fool’s gold. I was
memorizing lines
on colored marble, a forgery
of a poem in stone
that for many years
I had succeeded
in trying to forget.