occasionally bullied into solving problems
i don’t have

you know a dream is non-transferable
and i am no sponge

my dad must say something about
his rotator cuff

but i remember it as rotary cuff—
of course

the most charitable part of the body

mom freezes water in paper cups
makes lumps of ice

for rotating around his cuff
sunday afternoon

quizzically quizzically cool



the weather is looking lost tonight.
fine. i’ll let you into my ear.

you are familiar there, anyway.
strong-thirsted; looking for a way out.

a well. i am no longer the water,
i have become something else.

bird wounded. what a thing.
what they don’t tell you is that

blood improves the plumage. you
thought me purple, but here i am

red. what a step up: so sharp,
true colors, ha-ha. i am a step away

from saying you improved me,
and i’ll go no farther. i like it here.


Megan Kellerman is a New Jersey poet with an MFA in creative writing from The New School. Her poems have appeared in Neon, Emerge, among others, and on the Best American Poetry blog.