The fish tank cracked and ruined the rug, the

frenzied cichlids flopping among shards.  Then

 

someone flipped on the lights, and I learned I

was dreaming, coming to on the pillow,

 

wet spot marking where my mouth had been.  They

say drooling in sleep suggests parasites:

 

bloated belly, inability to

concentrate, night terrors and compulsive

 

thinking, dilated pupils, a puffy

 

upper lip that turns salmon colored in

too much sun.  I sleep with my dog, sometimes

 

pull a tick off my neck or from behind

my ear while mosquitoes inject me with

 

a larvae too small for a microscope

to see.  Mold grows in the filter on my

 

air conditioner.  The cat feasts in the

trash can, coming in on his rosy pads.

 

 

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Sandra Kolankiewicz’s poems have appeared widely, most recently in New World Writing, Smeuse, and London Magazine. Lost in Transition and The Way You Will Go can be found at Finishing Line Press. Black Lawrence Press published Turning Inside Out. She lives in Marietta, Ohio.