Jennifer Compton

Lit-Mag #37
Myself & Others

Three Poems


You dreamed of me last night, didn’t you?
Dreamed I was one of many just swimming
in a school of fishes, wearing my black hat.
How did I know you dreamed of me like that?
Because I was awake while you were dreaming.

Against the Pebble

It’s just the old old thing, I think, of there’s a pebble of prejudice in a mind
Against the thing that you are. When you meet someone with the pebble
in their mind, and you are that pebble – then all you can see is the pebble.
All you can hear is the tick tick tick of their words against the pebble.
If you didn’t resist them – ferociously – then you would die to yourself.

The Twig

It’s all hustle and peck on the twig.
It’s shuffle shuffle shuffle up to the end
of the twig. It’s not a very long twig.
Little claws clenched on the twig.
Sometimes I look up into the sky.
I see those who have flown away like birds.
I think it mightn’t be so bad. There might
be another twig just like this, another sky
just like this. Shuffle shuffle. Stop pushing!

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