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.
We unshelve
ourselves sometimes, dog-eared
and plaintive—spells of them tucked away
for once of us.
Our neighbors keep us up at night
firing
BBs
at an old mattress :
that we
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.
