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Foresights

Bad Woman, planning someone's falling variation

Editor’s Note: This poem by Sheila McMullin is being presented as part of our special focus on poetry during #PoetryMonth in April. Please read our introduction to the series.


DaughterrariumA person lies next to me

Someone’s arm wraps tenderly around my waist
So sweetly this fingertip circles my hipbone

I know this person’s name

An owl circling the chimney
Eyes like brick

Eating the songbird

I forget this arm has fingers
When I say I can hear two

eyes opening and closing

I mean are they looking at me
both heads on gray pillows

one nose toward one ear one nose toward one ceiling

I am not planning on falling asleep
when the plan was to fall asleep

Angry that this is all that is left in the dark

Sleep when I’d rather escape head first
through the window the bed is facing

through glass and metal and plastic onto the grass

Are you blinking
Yes

What are you thinking about

Things I don’t know
The bed makes a crunching as I turn my back to the voice

I thought the dove coos

were owls in the daytime
owls in holes in trees wide awake

whenever someone could hear them yelling


Used with permission from Cleveland State University Poetry Center

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