AMY POAGUE

On Listening to My Thoughts Near the Ceiling


Years ago I dreamt of levitating
above my bed, touching the ceiling.
This was the first stop on the itinerary:

love entering my body
as it had before, forming me light like a balloon.
I could leave my signature to show I had been there.

I tried to listen to my dream-mind to understand the plan
but could not know what I was listening to.
I was adjacent to meaning, perceiving burbles and spits,

so beside my name I drew myself with speech bubbles
and thought bubbles to fill in later,
effervescing towards the cloud cover, the stars.

If I had been able to understand my mind,
the ceiling would have read:
Lifting yourself up is not brave.

It’s just another translation.

Amy Poague holds an M.A. in Creative Writing from Eastern Michigan University. Her work has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and has appeared in SWWIM Every Day, Figure 1, Kissing Dynamite, The Indianapolis Review, and others. She can be found at amypoague.wordpress.com and on Twitter @PoagueAmy.