While I Was Sleeping
I walked on eggshells until the yolks
revealed themselves as the true enemies.
Then I beat myself up over
the inevitable, which, too, was inevitable.
The sun told the moon
to thank her lucky stars chickens
kept hatching, uncounted by sheep
pretending they gave a fuck who fell
My anxiety was all
about my mother, my fear
that she would die, the threats
that she might live
forever in the hole my father
punched in their bedroom wall.
While we are being honest, I guess
part of me is pissed off
that after I carried her around
all those years, heavy with emergency,
she turned out just fine
once I put her down.
Have I Mentioned My Brain
hurts? Swimming headless
in a sea of facemasks feels futile.
I would bob for apples, baby
myself and my misery, melancholy
as we both are, if I thought
that might do the trick to restore waves
that remember drowning themselves,
the crown to my stump of a neck.
April Salzano is the co-editor at Kind of a Hurricane Press and is currently working on a memoir about raising a child with autism, as well as several collections of poetry. Her work has been twice nominated for a Pushcart Award and has appeared in journals such as The Camel Saloon, Centrifugal Eye, Deadsnakes, Visceral Uterus, Salome, Poetry Quarterly, Writing Tomorrow and Rattle. Her chapbook, The Girl of My Dreams, is available from Dancing Girl Press. Her poetry collection Future Perfect is forthcoming from Pink Girl Ink. More of her work can be read at aprilsalzano.blogspot.com