images intrude like a black & white western
eyes tightly clenched i rage with fever
in tangled twisted sheets remnants of nauseous purges
heralding the inevitable a raw, unfiltered death
a sleep-weary consciousness preys upon my waning id
an already swarming cold-gleaming porcelain
sanitized version of billowing smoke
a whistle pierces peers into the dregs of my mind
late into the mouse-gray night pages fraught with pristine white
Julie Allyn Johnson is a sawyer’s daughter from the American Midwest whose current obsession is tackling the rough and tumble sport of quilting and the accumulation of fabric. A Pushcart Prize nominee, her poetry can be found in Star*Line, The Briar Cliff Review, Phantom Kangaroo, Haven Speculative, Anti-Heroin Chic, Coffin Bell, The Lake, Chestnut Review and other journals.
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