Today’s poem came from the prompt at the NaPoWriMo website:
http://www.napowrimo.net/day-four-8/
Excerpts from the night shift
In one dream we are seated on chairs
in a circle. We pass an object between us
and speak. When it’s my turn I feel
electrified and words pour molten
from my mouth. When it’s my turn
I feel spotlit and my tongue dries
to the roof of my mouth.
In another dream a woman is a surgeon
and a musician and a friend. She checks
my face beneath the cold pack and says
the swelling is almost gone so I am free
to leave as well. I still feel unsteady
but someone else is driving. Already I can
breathe more easily.
The Daily Compost 