Three Poems

by Michael Prihoda

Sweet Dreams (Ronald Brischetto)

you dreamt
the intuition

of knowing
my body

was not

my body.
a lip curled

in defense
of an off-shoot passage

from a history
class soured

by the conservative
wineskin coating

of what should
have been a fresh classroom.

i spotlight
your mouth, that

orifice trapping
all i know of your head,

& watch as every shade
of red and non-negotioable red at once

dash away to form
a scion against those shades of lipstick

i never borrowed
from you

Reverie #11 (Prilla Smith Brackett)

narrative uncertainty
is elicit,

a memorandum for
a drugstore preoccupation

with child-proof caps
& drawstrings on even more frayed sweatshirts.

the woods do not commune
with how we built our homes

from solace, spirituality,
& the fatness of their trunks.

even in daylight, the trails
offer mouths that grow teeth

as all of this descends
a ladder of degrees & layers

until the forest wipes
our footprints

with its self-made purity,
contrast an effect to blend our mind

against how early the sun pours
itself down the horizon’s throat.

I’ll Gladly Be the Frame (Jeff Ballard)

i’m waiting for my conversation
with God,

scheduled it last week
in a dire moment

transfixed by a laptop
& the essence of

every friend i’ve ever known
being mortally burned at the stake

while i slowly become less

yes, i am afraid.
no, these glasses do not help my ears.

yes, i sometimes affix
new elements to the periodic table.

no, it does not mean i don’t believe
in what they already say i cannot see.

Michael Prihoda is a poet and editor, born and living in the Midwest. He is the author of two chapbooks and the full-length collection Hear (Sein Und Werden Books). He is the recipient of Pushcart and Best of the Net nominations and manages the journal/small press After the Pause.

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