I was in grade school when I dreamt
that I walked into class with holes
through my hands and feet. There were
insects coming in and out of my hands.
The breeze from the air conditioner
went through my holes, leaving a chill.
Walking up the stairs, a pain
shot up my leg-bone. During choir practice,
a pool of blood marked where I stood. I tried
to clean it up with bathroom paper towels,
but it remained there. Marked.
When I woke up, I felt for the flesh of my palms—
that I might be in the Scriptures.
I felt for my feet. They were whole.
Meg Eden’s work is published or forthcoming in magazines including Prairie Schooner, Poetry Northwest, Crab Orchard Reivew, RHINO, and CV2. She teaches creative writing at Anne Arundel Community College. She has five poetry chapbooks, and her novel “Post-High School Reality Quest” is published with California Coldblood, an imprint of Rare Bird Books. Find her on Twitter at @ConfusedNarwhal.