By Laura Post
I have bursts of being a body, but they never last long.
I buried a lightbulb,
thought it might hatch fire,
set those lazy fields ablaze.
ourselves sometimes, dog-eared
and plaintive—spells of them tucked away
for once of us.
Our neighbors keep us up at night
at an old mattress :
had control over our dreams.
Laura Post is from New Jersey and currently lives in Ohio. Her poetry has appeared in The Moth Magazine, New South, Occupy Poetry, and elsewhere.