Kim Triedman


You will

Never know. On my way to work the

Plane fell from the sky, but just a
Small one. The radio played a song
You’ve never heard before and
My jaw was clamped so tight I couldn’t speak.
Everyone thought I was
Crazy or just putting on airs; the sheer
Humiliation. They said I’d
Never truly loved the color green. There were no
Geese up there, either, they must have
Sensed that this was not the best of years for birds.
When I wake these days my sheets are
Soaked, the water pools between my breasts.
You sleep like you have
Always slept, one foot thrown off the
Far end of the bed.

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