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.