by Michael Prihoda

Sweet Dreams (Ronald Brischetto)

you dreamt

the intuition

of knowing

my body

was not

exactly

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

human.

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.