by Dana Curtis

Here, the eggs are stones
we constantly break against each other,
dreaming of omelet’s although
we have never heard of omelets
or soufflés -- we know
these white oval rocks hold the answer
to our nameless longing--
and I sit on the steps watching
the water rise -- it's up to my ankles
and the world is no longer
the world -- I broke it like an egg
and watched the body spin
in the breathing whirlpool --
because everyone knows that I never
learned to swim, repaired
these fractured fingers
folding paper into loaves.
Go get a drink --
you'll feel better,
you'll ruin the crops.


Schrödinger's Mouse

Dana Curtis Dana Curtis’ second full-length collection of poetry, Camera Stellata, is available from CW Books. Her first full-length collection, The Body's Response to Famine, won the Pavement Saw Press Transcontinental Poetry Prize. She has also published six chapbooks: Antiviolet ( Pudding House Press), Pyromythology (Finishing Line Press), Twilight Dogs (Pudding House Press), Incubus/Succubus (West Town Press), Dissolve (Sarasota Poetry Theatre Press), and Swingset Enthralled (Talent House Press). Her work has appeared in such publications as Quarterly West, Indiana Review, Colorado Review, and Prairie Schooner. She has received grants from the Minnesota State Arts Board and the McKnight Foundation. She is the Editor-in-Chief of Elixir Press.