by Elizabeth Dwyer
The wooden fish
above your bed and I
both have fins. Wings
for some other space.
In this nest bed,
am I pearl or egg?
Hardly matters.
You distill me.
With hammer palms,
you nail me to your walls.
Quiet, you dream on cirrus clouds
while I choke back the sea.
*
Elizabeth Dwyer is a senior at Old Dominion University majoring in English with an emphasis in Creative Writing. She plans to attend graduate school in hopes to become a college Professor. Ms. Dwyer’s poems “Decor,” and “September, closet raider,” received Honorable Mentions in Old Dominion University’s 2011 College Poetry Prize contest, Undergraduate division.