Poem: I Know What You’re Thinking


—she wants to kiss me. Her

eyes are draped curtains

and her mouth’s half drawn and

her lips are wet—she leans

across the coffee table, hands

on paper, eyes on me, breasts

on table, spilled, asks, Why?

Why? Why Not? about my dreams,

calls in the midmorning about

her dreams, asks what I think

that means—perhaps she values my thoughts

on the matter—perhaps she thinks I have

the tiniest percentage of an idea

what she dreams—perhaps I know

what it is to go blind and running

every night as frogs crawl

out of my ears and boys

run, hide, run.

By Ella

I am an undergraduate junior studying creative writing. I am interested in short fiction, poetry, creative nonfiction and professional writing.

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