- Aimee-Jane Anderson-O'Connor
I dream that they
lather me in margarine
and slide me into the yawning arch.
I dream that Braveheart is my doctor and he keeps asking me
Dya have any metal in ya?
but I can’t answer
through the silver chewing gum wrappers
scrunched like walnuts in my cheeks.
I dream that I do not fit
that I’m stuck halfway like a caterpillar mid-chrysalis that the amalgam in my molars
curls up and
The speakers froth with static
and the nurse puts on a scuba mask.
The whole place fills with water and
my breasts deflate and float
to the top of the room like
those plastic bags that
the sea turtles keep eating.