Whir

by | May 31, 2011 | Poetry

She wants to talk about the future,
about having a baby, but it’s late
and the quilt’s pulled up to my chin.

The murmur of her voice lulls me.
I dream of childhood summer nights
when I’d sleep on my bedroom floor

next to my brother with two box fans
against our pillows, and we’d drift off,
pretending we were lying in our graves.

 

 

 

Art Credit:
“A Flood” by William Holman Hunt (1870)
Photo Source: A Polar Bear’s Tale

About The Author

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Joshua Michael Stewart has had poems published in Massachusetts Review, Rattle, Cold Mountain Review, Georgetown Review, William and Mary Review, Flint Hills Review, Pedestal Magazine, Evansville Review and Worcester Review. Pudding House Publications published his chapbook Vintage Gray in 2007. His first full-length collection of poems, Break Every String, was published by Hedgerow Books in 2016. Visit him at joshuamichaelstewart.com