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In the morning
when she opened one eye,
his face was above hers.
“You look like a turtle,”
he said.
Half asleep she
felt her surrounding shell.

In her dream
he was a Spotted Owl,
looking around the meadow
ready to choose which animal had
caused the long ago trouble
with his feathers,
making it twice as hard to swoop.

“Turtle,” he whispered,
stroking her hair,
kissing her awake.

 


Meg Pokrass lives in San Francisco with her husband and daughter, dog, 2 cats, and a bearded dragon.  Her poetry and stories have appeared over the past 15 years in various journals, including The Emrys Journal, Two-Twenty-Four Poetry Quarterly, Black Buzzard Review, March Street Press, and Flutter.  She has performed with theatre companies throughout the United States and Canada, and feels that writing is an extension to Sensory Recall developed through acting.

© 2008, Meg Pokrass

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