By: Alyssa Trivett

Newspaper cutout men danced in my head,
my stomach bowling pin quakes, sits, stays,
rolls over to machine beep symphonies.
Bedpans slam-dance. I spy faint figures in hospital garbs;
the ghosts of my dreams, as I see stars.
My burned throat rapid fires coughs.
Lanky arms bounce like a snake down cement stairs,
as my body slingshots up,
coming to life, again.

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Alyssa Trivett is a wandering soul from the Midwest. When not working two jobs, she listens to music and scrawls lines on the back of gas station receipts. Her work first appeared in [now-defunct] Scapegoat Review, has appeared in Peeking Cat, VerseWrights, and recently at In Between Hangovers, Your One Phone Call, and the Drunken Llama. She recently had fifteen poems appear in Ambrosia: A Poetry Anthology, which includes the works of eight other poets. The anthology is available on Amazon and Smashwords.