Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Confession #2

Confession #2

There is the limp lack.
There is the slumped back
of a child staring at her hump-
backed shadow—slow,

a camel through a needled
conscience, a sponge of hooks.
Nails draw blood and the lungs
begin to descend, dragged by gravity,

the sin of suspension, the art of the lie.
Her grin is dirt irritated
into pearl, her tongue a rag
of earth pinned by skin,

the weight an earthball
in her chest, air so heavy
the world slows its spin. She shuts her lids
and the shadow follows in,

lockstep with dreams:
a frayed belt, a smooth stone
lost down a grate, a bus late
with no destination.  She wakes

with a cord, a placental ghost,
a parachute above her bed.
The phone rings.  The alarm.  The host
floods back, sun again.

--Janann Dawkins' work has appeared in publications such as decomP, Existere, Mezzo Cammin, Ouroboros Review & Two Review, among others. Leadfoot Press published her chapbook Micropleasure in 2008. A graduate of Grinnell College with a B.A. in American Studies & twice nominated for the Pushcart Prize, she resides in Ann Arbor, MI.

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