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  • Writer's pictureJessica Lee McMillan

Man in white robe handing onto brass bed flying over city
Still from Dream of a Rarebit Fiend by Edwin S. Porter, 1906. Public Domain Review

my bed was a site of prayer            four corners to my bed four angels around my head               I bedded the universe  in books, words      learned positions       on twin mattress  red-eye flights to                                     Brave New World      Go Ask Alice                  I set sail with my Madonna poster  blew thru plots       dust covers off            but beds only fly  until their confines warp          sentinel brass posts migrate  with frame of mind    become        maraschino cherry ends  on rolling tongue      of a protoplanetary teen     pubescent  breaker of Procrustean beds orbiting past four,  rapt in sun my burning poems untucked from                 Rolling Stone   selling genre as quantifiable                                      reality  presuming covers are outer limits              sores of identity not sites of information, the bed,                      I assembled  myself with bolts                                            and alan keys  knew its undoing, grave                 how metal tubing twists and is mostly matter-less                            plot designation       pining new forms   prayers and posts     bereft of thingness               my rectangle now the shape of                  a question mark


Originally published in Train Poetry Journal, December 2022 (print: Train: a journal unlucky in love)

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