Today's poem is by Sara Michas-Martin
One side at a time scientists paralyze the brain, then ask
the other side questions. You told me last night
conflict was contagious. Eating eggs raw
I feel poisoned a little, and on the highway
that stain is not from a deer. I was half asleep so
I missed what you said. Your hands on my
buttons. Me twisting your wheels. How often
does paint fly out of a truck? Bump the cortex
you'll hysterically laugh. Ever heard of a deer
with pink or green blood? Left half says
spinnaker. Right half: I miss you, go fish.
They hope to close the gap between unsure
and hailing. What if all day your job
was to retrieve ruined animals? When you're funny
I picture my left-glow, my inhibited amygdala.
Together we make an imperfect riot. I mean, it's
questionable either of our cities is real.
Copyright © 2011 Sara Michas-Martin All rights reserved
from Denver Quarterly
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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