Ronda Piszk Broatch
Dream Sonnet With Persistence of Memory
I was awake and
you were my sleeping compass
I was about to tell you this morning how
I became allergic to Saturday’s shit show, but
you were savaging
your pillow, and the cat was chewing my toes,
you were wearing the same shirt
you wore flushing the transmission,
your pants, slung over a chair like that painting
I like of Dali’s clocks, the cat naps on when
she needs the scent of oil and pants. Sundays
we rap to The Lorax and Fox in Socks, the cat digging
her way onto my lap, and
me, I’m just trying to find true north.
—Submitted on 05/14/2020
Ronda Piszk Broatch is the author of Lake of Fallen Constellations (MoonPath Press, 2015). Her poems have appeared in Blackbird, Prairie Schooner, Sycamore Review, Mid-American Review, Puerto del Sol, and other journals.
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