Winterhospital

Winterhospital

March 5, 2014

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

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

Winterhospital

Related Posts

Dispatch: Two Poems

SHANLEY POOLE
I’m asking for a new geography, / something beyond the spiritual. // Tell me again, about that first / drive up Appalachian slopes // how you knew on sight these hills / could be home. I want // this effervescent temporary, here / with the bob-tailed cat // and a hundred hornet nests.

June 4, 2025
statue of poseidon

Fathom

SARA RYAN
When the whales wash up on shore, my friend grieves. I feel it too, but it feels further away. Deep in me, treading water, legs furiously churning under the surface. The first whale washes up on the oceanfront, just off the boardwalk. People drive out to stare at it. Its dark wet form deflates into the sand.

May 21, 2025

Glass: Five Sonnets

MONIKA CASSEL
In ’87 I see guardsmen walk their AK-47s / on the platforms. The trains slow down but never stop. I think, / my mother was born in such a different Germany, but this is true for everyone / —so why can’t I stop looking?

April 16, 2025