Spring 2024

Falling Asleep Over Paradise Lost

By Ruth A.M.

I hit my head on the headboard
and my brain flew out,
bounced off
the mattress, rolled down
to the bottom of my bed
into the infernal pit
of Pandemonium,
wheeling, bumping on
demons’ feet like a marble,
knocked down a few pillars,
rebel angels caught it
and poked it with bobby pins;
a goblin bit the gray matter
like a piece of tofu
and vomited it out
down a lint hill,
left it out in the open, filthy
ants walking through
its grooves, they carried it to
the shore, left it
floating in the lake
of fire, sunk down
the sewer, made its way
to Satan’s bath.
The devil grabbed it,
rested the brain on his lap
like a sphynx;
it left a viscous print.
Satan grossed out
and threw my brain
back down
the bottomless abyss

now my moth-eaten
brain is waiting
for me
to pick it up
next to some
old black licorice.

Ruth A.M is a poet and editor. She has an MFA from Brigham Young University and currently works as Poetry Editor for Soft Union. Some of her most recent works will be published in the upcoming Deseret Magazine and Poets.org. Her works explore themes such as time, the absurd, surrealism, human anatomy, memory, and experimental forms of verse. Ruth lives in Provo, Utah, but she grew up in Mexico City. 

Spring 2024