top of page

Maybe

Meghan Violet

I forgot to see mother in my dream

Last night 

She wrote as if I had 

Rolled into the drain 

Of the double kitchen sink. Inside out 

As cow meat bled fevers 

Into night sweats. 

Maybe it's weird. 

Not because heat should take

Away blushing. 

Or that limbs should keep 

Drying all over again. 

But because I've taken part In a mind 

I’ve stopped remembering. 

Maybe the drawers were always

Slightly off their hinges. 

Or maybe not. 

But what difference 

Does wood make to a mind

Stuck 

In its own version of things? 

I say nothing 

Means much to me anyway.

Not the dishes 

Swimming in chicken broth.

Or the sky 

Spilling soap into mouths 

Too young for showering. 

In the rain 

She says maybe 

The lakehouse. 

I say nothing and mean it 

Was never on purpose 

I think 

This dream is enough 

bottom of page