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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