The American Journal of Poetry
"Strong Rx Medicine"®

 

Betsy Johnson-Miller

first-time car buyers

 

then the wind takes her wig in the back section of the car lot where rust like a wolf starts with the most vulnerable parts         wig animal runs the same way a did you see that? scurries along a dark road             in her taupe pumps she can’t catch it your new husband runs             the creature down and stomps it dead lifting the pelt he brushes it off and as her hand goes to the pearls at her neck he sets the ginger crown on her bald head

 

 

Betsy Johnson-Miller

Why I can’t remember my dreams

 

Even though I can’t sew I sleep with a needle and thread tucked up my nightgown’s sleeve Little do I know at night my fingers turn into twigs My hair turns fire and falls Birds nest between my legs hungry beaks oh I don’t like this Come morning I wake The needle sleeps Against my skin

 

 

 

BETSY JOHNSON-MILLER lives in Minnesota, and her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Alaska Quarterly Review, Prairie Schooner, Boulevard, AGNI (online), Poet Lore, and North American Review.

 

 

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