White Sheets – Shelby Curran

underneath  the white sheets
there lives:
               a floorless house
               remnants of exploded stardust
               a dog’s favorite tennis ball
               cut up scripts that once fell from someone’s mouth
               broken kite string
               strands of gold woven into the bristles of a hairbrush
i could not see where the white sheets left off
and she began
or where she left off
and the white sheets began

a great universe exists here
in the spaces between the discs of your back
small stones
put them in my pockets
carry them to the river
behind the alabama farmhouse
and skip them across the water
weighed down
let me straighten your spine

your voice is like florida thunder
when you say
“it’s not like that, with you”
with lips like egyptian pyramids
built from the work of the slaves
that have been there before me
i taste the limestone
after all these years

the beds of my fingernails are
sp        lit     in     ha    lf
like chinese chopsticks
that can’t be held right
“crack my fingers”
is morse code for come closer

the day you decide to make the bed
will feel like:
                heavy metals                                                            sinking into my pores
                the branches of the backyard oak tree  straightening like a queen’s back
                a nest of blue jays                                                    using their feathers for pillows
                the sun’s rays                                                            striking the neighbor’s housecat
                rough winds                                                              blowing away every eyelash

before a girl can make a wish

and the world will never recover

Shelby Curran.jpegShelby Curran recently graduated from Florida State University with a degree in English: Editing, Writing, and Media. Her work has appeared in The Miami Herald, Jewrotica, and A Wider Bridge.