By DAWN TEFFT
the window is freezing into a lake
and nothing on its surface has vertebrae
I want my oily feathers back
the smell of tin-foil eyes
and catfish bones
underneath my skin, everything’s packed
and the day flakes like stream-caught salmon
underneath these ceilings, lysol gutters my dreams
turns to vodka powdered guilt
underneath this sheet
pick it up– the ice the mentholated everywhere
ruin it
make it go August-fast
Dawn Tefft’s poems have appeared in Witness, Fourteen Hills, Sentence, and Court Green, among other journals.
Photo by Flickr Creative Commons user David Breizh
