Ruth Comes To Me (in a dream)

She always does.
Long red hair like the sun or crayon blood moon,
Eyes milked over shaking like a tea kettle, a jacket made out of fish
scales, eyes wider than any moon you’ve ever seen, I promise.

She says she comes to my dreams
Most when I am trapped inside my home
A marble trying to fit
The outside world in,
I want to call her mama – thinking she’d understand, I wouldn’t
Put my head in the oven, but America put me inside now.

Mama, the world is a wound
And you saw it always saw it, and I feel
Too scared now that I’ve seen it too.

Ruth is smiling now as big as the sky, big teeth next to the sun, her
Voice louder than the tv, but I can’t hear.

Her blood moon hair is wrapped around me, pulling me
Up to the sky, I don’t want to go to the sun, I say. I cry like a baby.

Mama twists me out of her longest hair, and places me in her hands,
Still young, painted red fingernails, she’s the red woman now.

Things will be different, her voice is a whisper now, it’s our
Secret, me and mama.

Now I sit alone in my rented apartment. The cat on my lap,
No victory on tv, just sadness like mama sad, no more laughing kids
outside, a galaxy broke but we did it to our selves, but I think of
Mama, I think mama was right,
When the sun dies,
We will all become one.

Published by

Lynsie Sitler

A graduate of Binghamton University, BA in English/Creative Writing. Independently published chapbook entitled "Thirty-Nine Steps" released in December of 2015. Currently published in SUNY Broome's Literary Magazine, Breaking Ground, 2015 and 2016 editions. NY Poets, 2018 & 2019 edition.

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