by Shawn Aveningo Sanders
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| by Irochka at Dreamstime |
I woke up this morning clawing
and writhing—sheets tangled
like arms that held me down.
I hate it when I wake up this way:
on my back.
But the news of the Cornell 7
had seeped into my sleep. The dream
a surreal game of Spin the Bottle.
I was the bottle.
Dizzied, it was all Greek to me.
I try to shrug it off, smoothing
out sheets and brushing my teeth
like any other morning.
How’d you sleep? my husband asks.
I am not in the mood to swap dreams.
We watch Klepper and Kimmel
make jokes on more palatable topics:
Trump’s rebranding of Intelligence,
an inept senator’s show-n-tell,
a loveable Mexican sidekick learning
to dance like a star. I’m grateful
Jane Doe isn’t spun into punchlines,
her story too close to my own
(and why I was afraid to report it).
At nineteen, the joke was on me
that night I learned how brotherhood
is a bond stronger than a conscience.
Editor’s note: The New Verse News is honored to continue to host, in the wake of the news at Cornell, a series of courageous memoir poems.
Shawn Aveningo Sanders shares the creative life with her husband in Oregon, running The Poetry Box press. Her poems have recently appeared in Rattle, ONE ART, contemporary haibun online, Sheila-Na-Gig, Jackdaw Review, Gyroscope Review, and the award-winning anthology, Love Is for All of Us. Shawn is a multiple Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net, and Touchstone Award nominee and has won prizes from the Oregon Poetry Association. Her newest book Pockets (MoonPath Press) was a finalist in Concrete Wolf’s Chapbook Contest. When not writing, find her shopping for a new pair of red shoes or toy dinosaurs for her granddaughter,