[Then there is this dream with its other bright edges]
Then there is this dream with its other bright edges,
a piece of paper spread over the flowering field,
thin as a reflection. You know what’s wound
tight there, wanting to undo.
Even when you don’t look, it is still there,
all brazen and sting, all blast-net of stars:
a single-walled room that is eating itself,
one big hole of hallway,
pale and crustacean. And inside it,
the milk-film bristles with light. Inside,
you keep filling with water,
and the water keeps filling with copies of you.
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Niina Pollari wrote two chapbooks of poetry, Fabulous Essential (Birds of Lace 2009) and Book Four (Hyacinth Girl 2011). With Judy Berman, she is editing the essay collection It’s Complicated: Feminists Write about the Misogynist Art We Love.
fantastic!
It’s a sinister, cagey little poem
This is a lovely poem
BENJAMIN RAUCHER
this is just such a good poem. i showed up here fairly randomly. but this is just such. a. good. poem. thku